As We Survive
by poetrywoman
Summary: Harry, Ron and Hermione escaped from the Manor. After Draco and his family are tortured to punish them for their failure, Draco finds a book in the Manor library that launches him on a new path. He discovers remorse, and the experience changes his life. This is the story of how that happened. It is a story of family, friendship, and healing.
1. The Battle at Hogwarts

_**(Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter Stories or any of the main characters, only the plot and a few momentary characters are mine. I've tried to stick as close to Rowling's stories as possible, but as the story progresses, I will deviate from it. Apologies for the swearing, tried to keep it at a minimum but the story didn't feel authentic without it.)**_

_**Chapter 1: The Battle of Hogwarts**_

Draco Malfoy sat in a gilded armchair near the fireplace in the library at Malfoy Manor, his shaking hands resting over his haunted eyes. Memories of pain travelled through him in a wave, echoes of what it meant to fail the Dark Lord. In his mind, his mother's screams rang and crashed against defensive walls and iron doors, faintly echoed by the voice of another, which he quickly stifled. He had known it would come to this, as soon as he had seen Potter and his friends in Greyback's grasp. Potter always escaped, always won. There had been no room for the pity, for the compassion, which knocked at his heart when he had seen, from the corner of his eye, the two brown eyes filled with pain.

But the part of him that he had locked away years ago, before he ever learned occlumency, whispered still, _This is wrong. This is wrong. You should help._ With each death he witnessed, with each death he failed to fulfill the whisper had become more urgent, more real. With an inaudible roar of rage, visible in his grey eyes, he slammed his palms against the bookshelf in front of him. A book slipped off the shelf and fell to the floor with a quiet shuffling of pages. He would control his emotions they would not betray him. He was a Death Eater, he would be cold and proud and made of stone, his life depended on his ability to control himself.

He turned towards the window and stare out at the cold, grim morning light. A star twinkled far and away, one last dwindling memory of the terrors of the night. Stars were supposed to be a symbol of home, but there was no hope, not really. The star was lying, if Potter was foolish enough to get himself caught, then Voldemort would win, he must win. And the only hope for anyone would be to serve him, and even that would hold no hope for...but he, he was stone, he was the icy cold of devotion to the cause. And still his mother's screams raged in his head like fire, and memories shoved themselves against the doors of his mind, asking to be set free.

"No." He whispered. "I have my duty, I will do it there is nothing else for me." And though he feared death, he also longed for it. Longed to be free of the chains that bound him to his lord, to the Dark Arts. His life was never free. At 17 he was imprisoned in a world where the lives of his parents depended on his ability to carry out tasks that were completely against his nature, and he knew that one day Lord Voldemort would realize this, if he did not already.

He turned and picked the book up off the ground, closing it as he did, and he stared at the cover in amazement. The title was _Remorse and the Dark Arts_ by Nathaniel Prewitt. Remorse. The words sank into him like a stone, touching his soul, and calling for something from him. But he did not know what it was, so he shut himself off from it, feeling, as he did so the burning blackness that he could sense growing inside of him. It was a black taint creeping into his soul, slowly becoming a part of him, one that haunted his dreams as he slept. He moved his arm to place the book high on the shelf from which it had fallen, but his hand twitched on the way upward, and instead, half-unconsciously, he shoved it into a deep pocket in his robes. One small gesture of hope for his soul, tarnished by all the evil he had done and all the good that he had failed to do.

He stayed home after the holidays, delaying the return that would eventually be required of him. He made excuses that it was really only his NEWTs that he needed to worry about, and he could study much more effectively at home without the distractions of the other students. He shut himself off from everything, hoping to delay the inevitable attack against his soul, caring only for himself and his mother, angry with his father. It was his father who had brought this on them, with his obsession with blood privilege and purity. His father whose greed and thirst for power had brought the Dark Lord into their home, and turned their life into a living death. He shuddered as he thought of his aunt, who he avoided because every time he saw her, into his mind flashed a red line and drops of blood on the neck of the mudblood he should despise, and the memory sickened him.

He missed his wand, yearning for its comforting presence in his hand. His mother lent him hers for his homework, but it did not have the same familiarity, the same intuitive knowledge of what he required in order to perform a spell. It did not accept him. He sat with his mother in her private parlor in the evenings, pretending to write letters to Blaise Zambini or Theodore Knott. But he never wrote anything important, it was merely an exercise to explain his presence.

Then, late one day, his father entered the room, his ashen, stubble-marred face containing the same crazed excitement in his eyes that entered them every time he glimpsed an opportunity for redemption. "Come, Draco, the Dark Lord has need of you. You must come. To the drawing room, now." And with an excited swirl of robes, he was gone. Reluctantly Draco rose slowly, but hurried away when he saw the anxiety in his mother's eyes as she rose to follow. It would not do to keep the Dark Lord waiting, punishment would be severe, and punishment was always worse than the crime. The Dark Lord seemed more and more unstable the longer Potter remained in the shadows, and now that he had escaped...Draco shuddered and emptied from his mind all but one thought. One tremendous lie behind which he placed all his power, enforcing and cementing it in his mind, until only the smallest corner of his consciousness knew that it was untrue.

He entered the room of his nightmares, and knelt before his hated lord. "I am here to serve you my lord." He said, not lifting his gaze, prepared for the onslaught that he knew would invade his mind. His defenses held, his practice had paid off. All the Dark Lord detected in him was a blank and whole devotion to the cause, and a shame at his own failures as a servant to so powerful a master.

"Good, good." Voldemort muttered, "Draco, you have learned well to bend your will to your master. But there is something I require from you yet again, and perhaps this time you will not fail me so severely as you did the last time I awarded you a special task." The Dark Lord laid a caressing hand Lucius and Narcissa's shoulders as he hissed the words. "It would be good, Draco, would it not, to rectify the failures of your family and win back your former place of honor among my ranks?" And Draco read the barely veiled threat, and knew that if he failed one of his parents would pay a price.

"Draco, you must return to Hogwarts tonight."

"To-tonight my lord?" Narcissa's voice shook slightly.

"Quiet woman!" Voldemort said. "This is not your concern. The boy is of age." And with that small corner of his mind that remained his own, Draco felt his hatred of the monster blossom.

"At some point, possibly sooner than later, it is possible that Harry Potter will return to Hogwarts, it is your duty to find him when he does and bring him to me. Succeed and your family will be restored, fail and there will be… consequences. You must not fail."

Draco nodded, and said with cold respect. "Thank you, my lord, for this opportunity to restore my family's honor. I will leave at once." He turned to go.

But Voldemort's voice called him back, silky and cruel. "Draco." He rasped, "You are forgetting something, you must take your mother's wand, since yours was so foolishly lost." The thinly veiled threat against his parents was not lost to him. Wordlessly he accepted his mother's wand, hating the action in his heart, knowing that he was leaving his parents with little defense, in a house of death eaters. He listened blankly to the rest of his instructions, bowed to the Dark Lord, and left the room. He saw his aunt in the hallway and she called to him, but he pretended not to answer, and quickly turned away. He grabbed his traveling cloak from his room, and strode from the house.

Draco disapparated from outside the Manor gates, apparating into Hogsmead, he felt the cold chill of the lurking Dementors and the quietness of the formerly bustling village. He could feel the dementors, hovering on the edges of the school. His Mark burned briefly, and he knew that his Master had been called.

Blending into the shadows, barely more than a shadow himself, he crept stealthily but swiftly up to the school and let himself in, unseen. The school was filled with an atmosphere of fear and dread, but a faint defiance hung in the air. He saw the faint outline of magical graffiti on the wall in front of him, in ragged letters carved into the rock, _Dumbledore's Army, Still Recruiting._"Foolish Longbottom." He sneered, but there was a sadness deep inside, a faint yearning that he quickly brushed away. In the distance he heard a faint scream, a defiant student being tortured, perhaps. And suddenly his face was weary and worn, a fleeting look that vanished instantly leaving behind a face all ice and stone. Pale as though carved from rock, emotionless as a pane of glass.

He heard the sounds of a duel break out, and silently unseen, glanced around a corner to see Flitwick and McGonagal battling with Headmaster Snape. Heard the crash as the tall, black haired man leaped through the window and flew across the grounds. He saw Potter materialize from under that damned cloak of his, but this was not the time, surrounded as he was on all sides. So he stayed in the shadows and waited, watching as the student's were gathered, and those too young, or who were suspected of devotion to the Dark Lord, were sent away. He lost sight of Potter, and the Dark Lord's announcement rang with a special menace for him, as he pictured his parents, wandless, defenseless, waiting for whatever doom the Dark Lord deemed appropriate.

As the battle broke out, he stayed away from it, knowing with a strange certainty that Potter was not engaging in the battle. Potter who had always fought bravely, Potter who stood up for his friends, Potter who he knew, from the strange instinct born by years of rivalry, would never allow others to suffer unless there was a greater need to be filled by staying away from a fight. He searched the castle, finally making his way up to the hall where the Room of Requirement used to be. He sensed Crabbe and Goyle's presence before he saw them. Seeing their feet sticking out from the bottom of what looked like a couple of tapestries hanging in the hall, a botched disillusionment charm. He smirked and approached them from the side.

"I have a mission from the Dark Lord." He drawled, enjoying the sight of the charm melting away as they started at the sound of his voice.

"What'd'ye think you're doing?" Crabbe muttered, hazily. "Thought you were in prison."

Draco gave him a scathing look, "The Dark Lord has sent me to find Potter and capture him. You can help if you like, but otherwise keep out of my way." It was a mistake; he knew it was a mistake when he saw the look on the two friend's faces. His hold over them had been wavering since he had forced them to disguise themselves as girls sixth year. With his family in disgrace his only hope was to move more quickly than them and keep them off balance.

Goyle's face twisted, ugly with resentment. "Don' have to do what you say." He grunted, "Your family is dis...dis...out of...not the favorites any more. You can't tell ME what to do."

"Shut up." Draco said coldly, "Someone's coming." And he cast a more powerful disillusionment charm over the three of them, so they blended into their environment.

Potter and his friends appeared down the corridor. They turned to the wall and a door opened up and Harry vanished inside for a moment, the door dissappearing before they could follow. Then the youngest Weasely girl appeared, looking oddly triumphant, followed by a young woman with purple hair who looked vaguely familiar, Draco wondered who she was, but then heard Potter roaring at the Weasely girl...Ginny, that she had to come, back in the room once he was done finding...something, a diadem? What did Potter want with a diadem?

Potter turned and the door changed to one that Draco was all too familiar with. Potter entered, followed by Weasely and Granger. As soon as they were gone, the Weasely girl took off towards the growing sounds of battle on the grounds and the floors below them. Draco threw off the charm like a cloak, and headed towards the door, wand at the ready. A beefy hand clasped his shoulder, halting him in his tracks. He turned to Goyle, his eyes like daggers, and said, "Remove your hand from me this instant."

Goyle grunted, "We go first. We're going to kill Potter for the Dark Lord."

"You idiots." Draco said, with deep scorn. "The Dark Lord wants Potter for himself. Do you really want to cross him? Or would you rather have that curse that you're so fond of turned on yourself?"

Goyle hesitated a moment, and Draco turned rapidly on his heel and entered the room silently. Once inside, everything moved so quickly, he hardly knew what was happening before he found himself wandless, standing on top of a pile of charred desks, listening with horror to Crabbe's death scream, knowing he was going to die. Knowing that he had failed, just hoping that his death would mean his parents would be spared. And then, from out of nowhere, Potter swept down on a broom and pulled him out of the flame, and Weasely and Granger lifted Goyle up. And, as they fled to safety, towards the opened door, Potter dove and swept something out of the flames, without touching the fire. And they were through the door, and the corridor was cool, and the air was clear. And Crabbe was dead because he used Dark Magic he couldn't control.

The pointlessness of everything, the war, the Dark Lord's hatred, the cruelty of his own past, covered him, chilling him to the bone, melding with the horror of Crabbe's death. And, as though from a long way away, he heard Weasely's voice saying harshly. "He's dead." And he realized that he had been saying Crabbe's name. And the three turned from him and the unconscious Goyle, and discussing their own plans and the fall of the Dark Lord. And then they were gone.

With great effort, Draco dragged his one time friend to a hiding place behind a tapestry, and turned and ran. He did not know what he was doing, he only knew he had to find a safe place. Wandless and without hope, but with a sudden intense desire to live, he found a place on a stairwell, and sat. Knowing that no matter what the cost he could never fight for Voldemort, never follow him again, because now, he owed the others his life. How long he stayed there, he didn't know, but then a Death Eater found him, in the midst of his thoughts. He knew that he would die, and he heard himself begging for his life, proclaiming his allegiance to Voldemort, all the while hating himself for his cowardice but knowing that he had to fight to live, despite the despair that now encompassed him.

Then, as suddenly as he had appeared, the Death Eater fell. He looked around in amazement, searching for the one who had saved him. And he felt a blow to his face, which sent him sprawling across the man who would have killed him. And heard the voice of Ronald Weasely berating him for his cowardice, and knew that Weasely was right, and it irked him to his very soul. Despairing, but full of a strange light that flared like a beacon inside him, he remembered the book that still hung in the hidden pocket of his robes. He stood, and the death eater groaned and stirred, grasping his wand and trying to rise. But Draco stooped and, with a great effort, wrested the wand from the man's hand with a force he had only ever used before in his life to torment the innocent. Then he turned the man's own wand on him, and stunned him again, and ropes sprang from the wand, and the man was bound. Draco turned on his heel and melted into the shadows; racing down the stairs, he followed the newly awakened flame within his heart.

As he rounded a corner, he saw bodies littering a corridor, and he heard the Dark Lord calling his challenge to Potter, and the mark on his arm burned with a fiery pain. But the flame inside him seemed to fight the pain and it was dimmer than he remembered, less intense, and he shut his mind to it, pushing it to the edges of his consciousness. He watched the Death Eaters retreat, and whispered a silent apology to his parents, knowing that the only hope they had was if he did not return, because now he could not return with Potter.

Draco searched the bodies of the fallen, hoping to find one person still alive. To somehow begin to repay Potter for even a small part of what he owed him. Following the sensation of the cool, clean burn within, he looked around and saw one figure faintly twitching. He rushed to the body, and the wounds he saw filled him with horror. It was the Gryffindor girl, Brown, Lavender Brown. And he could see by the ragged gashes on her neck and shoulder that she had fallen victim to Fenrir Greyback. Nausea washed over him, as he crouched over her. But shoved it away, conjuring a bandage over the worst of her wounds and a stretcher underneath her, and he levitated her through the passages of Hogwarts, which were strangely silent and empty.

Here and there, he spied a war-ravaged figure carrying or levitating a wounded body. He slowly, cautiously, entered the Great Hall, and saw Madame Pomfrey on the platform, working among the wounded, her kind face severe with worry and an effort to hold back the tears, as she stooped among figures that were too small to have been fighting...but he knew they had been.

Quietly, he whispered a command, and the stretcher floated gently across the room, past sorrowing families bending over broken bodies that he could not look at because he knew they must be dead. He waited, hidden, or so he thought, in the doorway of the room, and watched as the stretcher bumped gently against the matron, who let out a sharp cry, and bent over the girl who he hoped he had just saved. He saw her look up, and suddenly meet his eye, and as quickly as he faded back into the shadows, he realized that she knew. And a kind smile, a smile that strangely hinted of pride, broke gently across her tired face, inexplicably drawing a painful jolt into his heart.

He hid, fearful that someone from Potter's side would see him and try to kill him. He could see their eyes as they walked past, carrying body after body, many of which were too young to have fought, too young to have stayed. And many which were dressed in the uniforms of Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, although here and there he saw a Ravenclaw. He wondered where Potter had gone, what he was doing, and his hidden ramblings took him outside, and as he passed through the door, he recognized the old Gryffindor quidditch captain, Oliver Wood, carrying a body that was far too small, and he saw the camera and knew that it was Colin Creevey. He looked up and saw Neville Longbottom, his face ravaged and bloodied; looking older than any teenager should. And his start of surprise echoed Longbottom's, as Potter revealed himself.

And Draco heard Potter's hidden words to Longbottom, and knew what Longbottom did not. He knew that this final mission that Voldemort had sent him on was a wasted one, and that Voldemort with all his intelligence, had known the futile unnecessity of it when he had given it to Draco. Potter was walking to his death, and even as the realization hit him, Potter vanished and he knew, with absolute certainty, that Potter would die.

He sank down amongst the other shadows against the castle wall, and stared into the black night, and despair gripped him. And he sat like that a long time, waiting for the end, and flame that had filled him earlier seemed to die, and he felt like the black sky, and knew that the stars must be lying; there was no hope or light in the darkness. The world was ending, the hope of the wizarding world had gone to his doom, and Voldemort still lived.

Draco sat in despair, staring up at the night sky, wishing that he could escape into it, for surely the end of everything had come. Voldemort would win, and Potter was going to give himself up to save those in the castle, but the rest of the world would burn. He remained there, still and quiet, he did not know for how long, until he heard Voldemort's lies, and saw the great procession of Death Eaters, with Hagrid, great, brave, ugly Hagrid, crying like a child as he carrried a body, lanky and thin, with a shock of black hair and a gleam of glasses on the face. He heard the despairing screams, more horrible than any he had yet heard, that echoed his own soul's cry, and penetrated the walls inside his mind. He followed the crowd with his eyes, wanting to see what was about to happen, but with a tremendous fear in his heart. He noticed his parents and grimaced, they were still alive, but for how long? Surely the Dark Lord would punish them for his failure. The procession of Death Eaters on one side, and the limping and bedraggled band from the castle on the other, met parallel to where he sat, and directly in front of him stood the Dark Lord, and Potter's body was on the ground, and the huge snake nearby.

He heard Voldemort's cruel lies and was surprised out of his horrified reverie to see Neville Longbottom step forward and challenge the Dark Lord, with an air of permanent defiance on his ravaged face. He saw the sorting hat placed on Neville's head and burst into flames, and knew that another brave soul was going to die. But then, Longbottom broke out of the body-bind curse on him, and drew a sword, the sword Potter had had with him at Malfoy Manor, and with a great swing he swiped the head off the giant snake. And at the same moment, an echoing movement occurred on the ground, and Draco saw what no one else saw, Harry Potter leaped up, vanishing as he did so.

Draco sprang to his feet; his eyes flashing icy fire and elation encasing his heart. He saw the shield spell that Potter flung between Longbottom and Voldemort. He moved through the shadows, quietly hidden, and watched Potter's progress towards the Castle, following the shield spells and curses that came out of thin air. And he followed suit, smirking at the irony, as he sent curses and jinxes from the shadows, keeping himself hidden because he knew that otherwise he would be a target for both sides. And then he was in the Great Hall, and he could hear his parents screaming for him, as he continued to cling to the shadows on the edges.

And then, all the fighting was over, except for two battles waging in the center, Aunt Bellatrix and Lord Voldemort battling their adversaries viciously. And, as he watched in horrified awe as the three girls from his year battled his aunt, his parents finally stopped their frantic search right next to where he stood, and he grabbed them, and dragged them into the shadows with him. And his mother grasped his arm with an icy hand, as though unsure he was real. And his father, his face sagging and worn put an arm around his mother's shoulder, laid his hand on Draco's shoulder, and they continued to watch from the shadows.

He saw Bellatrix almost kill the Weasely girl, and saw with amazement as Mrs. Weasely, threw herself into the battle, and killed his aunt. And as she died, he saw her crimes and her undying devotion to her Lord and knew that her death had to come, because she would never bend. Still, a small slice of pity pierced his heart, but before he had time to ponder it, The Dark Lord turned his wand on Molly Weasely, and a giant stag patronus erupted in the middle of the hall, deflecting the killing curse. And Potter threw off his cloak, and he stood before the Dark Lord, calm and unafraid. And as the two wizards circled each other, one with the demeaner of a snake, ageless in his hideous evil, and one young and defiant, their words penetrated Draco's mind like a physical shock.

_"It's your one last chance...it's all you've got left."_ * Potter spoke with power and confidence that Draco had never heard from him before. And there was a note of compassion in his voice that shocked Draco, as he stared at the scene before him, listening to Potter's next words with a fearful wonder. _"I've seen what you'll be otherwise...be man...try for some remorse."_ And Draco's soul stirred in a way it never had before, and his hand convulsively reached for the book that had stayed with him all this time.

Then, words reached him once more, and he drew in a sharp breath as he heard his name, _"The true master of the Elder Wand was Draco Malfoy."_ And the thoughts that had entered him a moment ago, vanished as he gave a great start and stepped back. He could feel his mother's nails digging into his arm, and his father's intake of breath echoed his own. He heard the Dark Lord thrust aside his life with a word, as though it had never mattered, never been important. Then... more words_..."You're too late...I overpowered Draco weeks ago..."_ ad he flexed his fingers around his stolen wand, unconsciously, as his mother's grip relaxed and he felt her sag against his father.

And then with a shout the Dark Lord fell, Voldemort was gone. And the mark on his arm that had burned all through the cold, violent night was suddenly cold and numb and free of pain. And he knew that Voldemort was finally dead. And, for the first time in weeks, he turned and looked his parents full in the face, as the hall around them errupted in jubilation. He was free.

* _Italicized words indicate a direct quote from the books. References to come._


	2. Chapter 2: Ends and Beginnings

_**(Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter Stories or any of the main characters, only the plot and a few momentary characters are mine. I've tried to stick as close to Rowling's stories as possible, but as the story progresses, I will deviate from it. Apologies for the swearing, tried to keep it at a minimum but the story didn't feel authentic without it.)**_

_**Chapter 2: Ends and Beginnings**_

As Draco looked into his parents' faces, he was shocked to see how worn and broken his father was. It had been weeks, really, since he had properly looked him in the face, on the night when Potter and his friends had escaped, taking the Dark Lord's most valuable prisoners with them. He realized that his father, in particular, was drastically changed. His normally pristinely figure was unkempt and there was a ragged air to him that reached far deeper than outward appearance. His mother still held her head high, but her self-control was rigid rather than proud. He felt a softening towards both of them.

There were so many things that he could have said, so many questions on his mind, but the words that he heard himself speak were, "I'm going to turn myself in to the ministry, and offer them my full cooperation."

His parents stood, for a moment, silent and uncertain. Staring at him, as though seeing him for the first time, and he smirked inwardly, realizing that the expression on his face echoed theirs. Then he thought he saw something else, in his mother's eyes. Was it pride?

"We will as well." Narcissa said, firmly.

"Father?" Asked Draco, knowing that Lucius had more to risk than they did.

"We will." He said, resignedly, after a long pause, but his face was grey and aged, and Draco saw fear in his eyes.

Draco led his parents slowly through the chaos of mourning and jubilation, strangely ignored by the victors, towards the place where Kingsley Shacklebolt and Harry Potter stood talking in the middle of the crowded Great Hall. It was slow going, and as he pushed his way along, keeping his eyes fixed on his goal, he saw Potter look at them as they approached, and gesture animatedly talking rapidly. An owl swooped down through a broken window, and landed next to the Minister, holding out a letter. The minister took it, and read it briefly, while absently handing the owl several knuts. He looked up and said something to Potter, with a slightly stunned look on his face. Potter shook his hand, beaming, and clapped him on the shoulder.

And then the Malfoys were standing face-to-face with the Boy Who Lived and Shacklebolt. "Potter, Shacklebolt," Draco said, by way of greeting, he knew the older man from the many visits he had made to the Ministry of Magic with his father when he was a boy.

"It's Interim Minister of Magic now Mr. Malfoy," said Shacklebolt mildly, "What can we do for you?"

"Congratulations, Minister. I am here to turn myself in, as a former Death eater and one-time supporter of the Da…of L-Lord Voldemort, I would like to offer the ministry my full cooperation. I have information that will be valuable to the Ministry in apprehending and convicting remaining Death Eaters." Draco said, and he felt a slight tremble of fear as he stood before the two men, realizing that they could easily arrest him, simply for wearing the Mark. But he shoved the fear aside, and gazed firmly with his grey eyes into the eyes of the two men before him.

Kingsley nodded slowly, giving him an appraising look that Draco met firmly, despite the vague trepidation that lingered on the edges of his consciousness. "Thank you Mr. Malfoy." The tall, dark man said in his most powerful and reassuring tones. Then he turned to Lucius and Narcissa, who stood directly behind Draco. "And what of you, Lucius, Narcissa?"

"Yes." They both said, and by the tremor in their voices, Draco knew that they, too, were experiencing some fear in offering themselves up to the Ministry.

"Mrs. Malfoy," Potter said, stepping forward, "You saved my life in the forest, I did not get a chance to thank you then. But, thank you. It was very brave of you." Draco stared at his mother in shock.

Kingsley interjected, saying, "Mr. Potter and I have been discussing your family's roles in the battle. Narcissa, you played a key role in Voldemort's downfall. We might never have won the war if not for you." Draco felt his father shift restlessly behind him, and felt certain that his father had not known of this either, at least not fully.

"Thank you, Mr. Potter," Narcissa said coldly, "But it was for my son…for Draco. HE would not allow us to go looking for him, unless…" But she trailed off when she saw the thoughtful look on Harry's face.

"Dumbledore always said that love would be Voldemort's downfall. It was the one thing that he never understood, never felt." Potter said, thoughtfully, rubbing the scar on his forehead absentmindedly. "It was my mother's love that brought about his downfall at the end of the first war, and your love for Draco along with the remaining magic left by my mother's love that brought about his final demise. How fitting." And there was a distant look in his eyes, half-sorrow, half-pity. And Draco wondered who the pity was for, surely not Voldemort…surely.

"And, Draco," the Minister said, turning to the tall blond man, "Madame Pomfrey informs me that you were responsible for saving the life of one of your fellow students, a Miss Lavender Brown?"

"Y...yes..." He said, surprised, "I didn't think anyone knew...She'll live then?"

"We believe so. We will need to get her to St. Mungo's as soon as she is stable enough, but Madame Pomfrey is very hopeful that the girl will not only survive, but will return to full health in time. Of course, she will bear those horrible scars for the rest of her life. Sadly." Shaklebolt said, ignoring the way that Draco sagged in relief, then turned to Draco's father. "Lucius, you did not join in the fighting at the end, in fact, you have not been seen joining in the battle at all today."

"I did not have a wand, Minister." Draco heard his father say, "At least...not one I could use. I was not capable of fighting, even if I had wanted to." his voice trailed off but Draco sensed a not of something he could not recognize in his father's voice. Regret? Sadness? But for what? He was not sure, but his father had been cunning and politically driven for so long, that it was hard to tell his genuine emotion in relation to anything outside their own family.

"Very well, I believe that we can get a full acquittal for all three of you. However, we will have to take you and Narcissa into custody, partly for your own protection. As to your son…" Shacklebolt turned a speculative eye on Draco. "Draco, do you have the Mark?"

Draco's mouth was suddenly dry, but in answer he pulled up the left sleeve of his robes, revealing the slightly fading mark. He was surprised to find that the skin around the mark was red and inflamed, as though it had been scorched.

"And how old were you, when you received the mark?"

"16 sir."

A flash of disgust and pity crossed the man's face. "Since you were underage when you received the mark, and you clearly did not go to Voldemort when he called, you may have a choice. You can either choose to come to the Ministry with your parents, or remain here under the watchful eye of Minerva McGonagal and the other teachers, assisting in the clean up and repair of the school."

Draco looked around at the broken room around them, at the dead and dying and wounded. And he felt the book deep in the pocket of his robes, hanging there with a weight that seemed to be calling to him. "I'll stay here, Minister." He said, and his voice sounded strange in his own ears. He heard an indrawn breath from behind him followed by a sigh of relief, and wondered what his parents were thinking, but he realized that they had both relaxed slightly, and he wondered why.

"Very well, Draco." The Minister said, "If the three of you will find yourselves a seat somewhere nearby, an Auror will come eventually and give you more details on how we will proceed. Food will be served as soon as the house elves have had a chance to recover from the battle."

Draco nodded, "Thank you Minister, Potter." He said, bowing slightly to both in turn, before preparing himself to walk away, but his father stepped forward.

"Mr. Potter." Lucius said, "I have something belonging to some friends of yours. Perhaps, if you would be so good..." He drew three wands from his robes and handed them to Harry.

"I...thank you, Mr. Malfoy." Harry said, a startled look on his face, "They will be...very pleased to have these back."

"It is...the least we can do..." Lucius voice trailed off, but once again Draco heard that strange weary emotion in his voice that was puzzling.

Then Draco heard his name, and turned to find Potter standing in front of him, holding out his hand. Staring at him, in surprise, Draco slowly grasped the proffered hand and his grey eyes met Harry's green ones and he was shocked to see respect reflected in his old enemy's face and knew that his own eyes were showing the same. "I can give you back your wand, later, I think." Potter said, "There's, just...something that I need to do first." Draco nodded reluctantly, feeling the stolen wand in his pocket, then turned and followed his parents to the old Slytherin table, which stood nearby.

They sat in awkward silence for a long time till, at last, Draco turned to Narcissa, "Mother," he said, "What happened in the Forbidden Forest?"

Narcissa stared blankly out the window for a long time, and then recounted, "The Dark Lord was not pleased when you did not rejoin the others in the Forest when he called. He ignored your father's pleas to go and find you, while the battle was waging. He said that you had shown a lack of loyalty...as though your life had no significance except where it was used to serve him." And her face twisted and as she clenched her teeth together tightly on the last words.

"I did not return because I had not apprehended Potter yet, as he had instructed me to, and I did not want you to suffer because of my...failure." Draco said, disgusted.

"We know...knew...and then Harry Potter walked into the Forest, and he confronted the Dark Lord, but he did not pull out his wand or attempt to use it, he just looked the Dark Lord in the eye, and accepted death. The killing curse hit him directly in the chest." Draco could feel the blood drain from his face as he listened to the story, but his mother continued, "He fell, and the Dark Lord was flung backwards. When the Dark Lord rose, he...requested that I check if Mr. Potter was alive. I felt his heartbeat and saw that he was still breathing. I asked if you were alive, and he said yes. So I lied to the Dark Lord, and told him that Potter was dead, because I knew that was the only way he would allow us to return to the castle to find you."

Draco stared at his mother in horror and awe, "You could have been murdered!" He whispered violently.

"We have made many mistakes over the years, Draco." Said Lucius, "But we do love you...we have always loved you."

"I know." Said Draco quietly. And then he looked around the room, because he could not bear to look his parents in the eye any longer. The tortured looks on their faces were like knives in his heart. Around the walls lay the bodies of the dead. The Weaselys were standing huddled in a group around one figure, and he wondered who it was. "This..." He said hoarsely, waving his arm around, "This should never have happened. It's a school. Some of those bodies are the bodies of sixth years. This cannot happen again. It can't. Did you know that the Carrows made us use the cruciatus curse on the other students, students as young as first years? And the students who tried to resist were tortured instead. Can you imagine if that was in my first year?"

"Draco..." there was pleading in his father's voice, but he couldn't stop.

"I saw them carrying in a body. It was a sixth year student. He worshipped Potter. Just, worshipped him. And now he's dead. Can you imagine?" And suddenly, Draco felt cold and worn and empty, "16 and dying in a battle that should never have happened? How could anyone, even him, ever attack a school. And just imagine what would have happened if they hadn't been able to get the younger students out, with Greyback roaming the halls? This can never happen again. Never. Sometimes, I wish I had died last year, rather than see everything I've seen this year." But he whispered the last part, so that it was barely audible.

Lucius and Narcissa stared at their son, pale and ill, their hearts twisting within them…shocked, "What are you planning?" Narcissa asked fearfully.

"Whatever I have to." He said cryptically, almost viciously, because at the moment he only had a vague idea about what to do himself. "Whatever I can..." And his face was hard again, cold and remote, and he saw fear reflected in his parents' faces. But an overwhelming and overpowering guilt had seized him, and he could not feel anything else.

**Part 2**

Several hours later, Draco said a polite, but loving goodbye to his mother and father. They both whispered their love to him, and if their whispers were a little cool and lacking in emotion, the emotion in their eyes was enough for him to understand their meaning. But, it made him painfully aware of the sensation of emptiness and guilt that was slowly numbing him. He thought about the raw and opened grief and the deep affection that he'd seen the Weaselys displaying from across the Hall and the burning pain that was visible on the faces of Potter and Granger. And he pondered how strange it was, that the same love, love of family, could show itself in so many different forms.

Feeling out of place amongst all the grief-tempered celebrations, and half wishing he had gone with his parents to the Ministry, he wandered down to his old room in the dungeons. Guilt shot through him with every step he took, piercing his heart with agony when he saw blood spattering on the walls, or dead acromantula. Sometimes he paused, his head hanging, knowledge of everything that he had been involved him scorching through him like a living flame. He longed to run, to go into hiding, to run back to the Aurors and ask them to take him to the ministry, but that would be worse. He had made his decision, and he would have to follow it till whatever bitter end.

He found the dungeons strangely untouched, and there was an eerie quality to them. A sensation of stepping back in time seized him as he entered the common room, sending a physical pain through him, as it recalled to him the snide and cruel comments and conversations that had been held by him in this very place. He had to force himself to walk at a steady pace through the common room; the skulls were no longer familiar but sinister and troubling. They seemed to stare at him, accusing, reminding him of the death and suffering above him.

Finally, he entered his room. His trunk still sat there, just as he'd left it when he went away at Easter, which now seemed to have been years ago. He removed his ashy, battle-worn cloak, and sank into a chair in the corner. He stared at the wall for many long minutes, and then drew the book from his pocket and looked at it. It was bound in green leather, faded, but not worn, and it smelled of disintegrating parchment and dust and age. He opened it, and it creaked slightly in protest.

Holding the book in one hand, he gazed that the first word, transfixed.

_"Remorse,"_he read, _"Is a very strange and powerful thing. Even now, there is very little information on its magical properties and potentials. What is known is that it is the only remedy to reunite a soul that has been rent apart by murders, especially those murders perpetrated by the soul in order to create a Horcrux. Horcrux, that most abhominable of evils, that can only be accomplished by those who have successfully erased or removed from their minds all awareness of guilt, and every sensation of love from their hearts."_

__Draco gave a great start, and gazed in horror at the page in front of him. What was it he had heard Potter say to the Dark Lord at the end, "There are no more Horcruxes." It was plural, wasn't it? Could the Dark Lord...could Voldemort, have actually made more than one Horcrux? He felt a sickening sensation in the pit of his stomach, but he fought against it and continued to read. _"Although little else is known about this most interesting experience of a witch or wizard's soul, it is believed that the same experience can serve to heal a soul of any and all damage wrought by the Arts of Darkness. This is believed to be especially true in regards to those cases where the witch or wizard seeks out the experience, intending to rid him or herself of said relations with Darkness." _

__He looked up and gazed at the room of green and silver and stone that surrounded him, and relished the beam of hope that opened in his heart. He could feel the blackness; feel the stains left by his unforgiving tendency and cruelty, and the agonizing burn of black flame that had begun the first time he had dared to use an unforgiveable curse flared in protest at the direction of his thoughts, but he ignored it.

_"It is said,"_ He continued to read, _"That remorse may be made more possible by an experience of undeserved mercy, especially when it is wrought by an enemy. But I know of no occurrences where this has been done with a true motive. This would be most valuable for the one who wishes, who seeks to experience remorse, as the experience has been described as one of the greatest agony. For, in order to experience true remorse, the one who has committed themselves to the Dark Arts must fully devote themselves to know real compassion, a compassion so great, and so deep that it will take them through every act of cruelty and pain that they have committed in their path towards the Dark Arts, and they must know the suffering they caused."_

Draco stared at the page, his face grey, but he read on and on, until the evening closed in and still he read. One sentence, at the end of the book, stood out to him, amidst all the others, _"It is said that, if captured, the tears shed in remorse can help to heal those wounded by even the darkest arts."_ He closed the book and put it down, and sat in the silent darkness, lit only by the erie green light of the lake above him. Then, with deliberate movements, he opened his trunk, and took out a set of vials, bound in silver, that his parents had given him when he received the O for his OWL in potions. He placed them on a table next to the chair he had been sitting on as he read.

He turned back to his trunk and nearly yelled in shock, when the ghost of the the Bloody Baron appeared, materializing through the wall above it. He started back, and stared at the horrifying figure, but felt the fear melt away. A year in the presence of Lord Voldemort had left him with little fear for a figure so familiar as that of the Bloody Baron.

"The Headmistress requested that I be so good as to come look for you, Mr. Malfoy." the Baron said coldly in his icy rasp. "You were not present at luncheon and dinner is almost finished."

"I'm not hungry." Draco said, "I need to sleep. I will come up for breakfast in the morning."

The Baron rolled his eyes in what would have been a droll gesture in any other ghost, but in him it was, if not terrifying, at the very least intimidating. He floated around the room, observing it, until his eyes lit on the book at the table. If a ghost could look sharp, the then Baron's eyes were like needles, as he turned his haughty gaze on Draco.

"Remorse." He rasped. "This is a very powerful magic for one so young. I have neither seen it nor heard of it being used since the first rise of the Dark Lord. It is rare indeed that one who has sought the Dark Arts, should in any way seek out an experience of remorse?" He looked at Draco as though seeing him for the first time.

Draco's mouth was suddenly dry as he asked; "Someone else did this, during the last war?"

The ghost nodded his head slowly, observing Draco with his piercing eyes. "Our most recent Headmaster, Severus Snape, experienced true remorse many years ago. Found it after he betrayed the woman he loved, and brought about her death and the death of her husband, and nearly caused the death of their infant son."

"Potter." Draco stared at the Baron with an expression of a drowning man, who has just seen the branch of a tree within his grasp.

"And…and do you know of any others?" He asked, half-shocked at his own abruptness.

"I did, in my own way. Not as powerfully, I suppose, as you will, for I had just taken the life of the woman that I loved with my own hand. And the experience so tortured me that it drove me to seek out my own death before the magic could be completed. But you are the first, in many years, over a hundred, perhaps, that has read that book. The first to have discovered it in centuries, I believe. I did not know what my own experience was, until I had passed many centuries in the form you see me in now."

"But it...it can be done?"

"Of course, you foolish child. Have I not just told you that Severus experienced it? Your soul, I believe, is not so tainted as his had been. Twisted as it was by bitterness, it continued to be for many years. He did not know that his constant pain and irritability was due to his lack of commitment to remorse in regards to one of the deaths he caused. Had he accepted remorse for the one, he would have found himself fully healed. But he did not…although maybe he has now." As was the habit with ghosts, the Baron seemed to have lost himself in the past and turned to drift towards the door, but Draco stopped him, "Wait, Baron, what are you going to tell the headmistress?"

"That you are indisposed this evening, but that you will be in the Great Hall by the seventh hour of the morning." He said, coldly, turning around, "Be sure not to forget it, will you? I have a reputation to maintain. And, good luck, Mr. Malfoy, you will need it, I believe." Glided through the wall next to the door and Draco stood staring after him, his face waxen and green in the pale light of the lake.

There was a fire in the grate of the fireplace next to the table, which he noticed for the first time. A house elf must have come and gone while he was reading his book. He moved the chair in front of the fire and set the table next to it, taking care as he moved everything. Then he sat down in the chair, gripped its arms with his long, white fingers, and closed his eyes. As he felt the warm glow of the fire reach him, he unlocked and opened the door in his mind where he had kept his compassion, turned off and imprisoned for many years, and as he focused on remorse, and he was immediately seized with an agonizing flood of emotions and memories that were so intense they nearly threw him from his chair.

_Draco's parents lectured him, saying that all magical beings, except for pure blood wizards, were less valuable and should be committed to servitude of those whose blood was magically pure. He asked about House Elves, and what they were, and his father sneered haughtily, reprimanding him for even asking the question, saying that clearly all house elves were so far below wizards as to barely merit their attention. The scene faded. _

_Dobby hit himself over and over on the head with a rolling pin, his large eyes watering as the child, Draco looked on. Draco could not remember what it was that the House Elf had done, or really if he had done anything at all. But as he watched in disgusted amusement, he told the elf to be sure to slam his fingers in a drawer, just in case there was something he'd missed. But this time, the pain and hurt and the bitterness in the elf's eyes consumed the older and more mature Draco, and he felt the bruises and the agony as though they were his own..._

_Draco listened to his father telling him about being a pure blood, and how that made him superior to others in the wizarding world. That half-bloods were not to far removed from purebloods, so they were worthy of respect and time and attention, if they were of the right sort. But muggle-borns were less than they were, that they were dangerous and not to be trusted. That muggles were little more than animals, and a disgrace to the world, and not to be tolerated. The younger Draco had listened with rapt attention, accepting and taking in every word as truth, but Draco now, who sat in agony in his chair, saw the cruelty of the words and the falsehood of them, and what those beliefs had done to his already tainted soul..._

_The small girl with the bushy hair stood in front of him, defying him with her sharp brown eyes flashing fire. And he spoke the word that should never even exist. Saw the confusion, in her eyes, and mocked her in his heart for being so ignorant that she did not even understand this one important, vital part of wizard culture. That she was worthless, less valuable, less pure, than he was. But as the memory crashed over him in a wave, he saw the hurt, the confusion, and the fear, and he realized her value as a person, and as a witch, whose intelligence and goodness were far beyond anything that he had ever owned. _

_He watched himself mocking Potter and his dead parents, and where before he'd only seen rage and anger in the other boy's eyes, he now saw the hurt and the pain. He felt his loss and the agony it brought, and it was so real, so potent that he nearly fell to the floor. He felt the pain and humiliation of Neville Longbottom as he jumped up flights of moving stair with his legs bound together with a leglocker curse. _

And on and on and on it went, till Draco was weeping kneeling on the floor, suffering the same pain that his victims had experienced through his cruelty and thoughtlessness and lack of compassion. It took every ounce of self-control that he had gained in the two years he had spent under Voldemort's watchful eye, to capture those tears and still engage in the pain and the hurt that he needed to suffer in order to change, in order to have his to be free of the marks of darkness…Hours passed, and the agony increased with each passing moment, as he felt as though the emotional pain and humiliation alone would kill him with their weight. But still it continued hour after hour getting ever more intense as he passed through years of deepening devotion to the Dark Arts, the secret lessons with his father over the summers, starting in his second year, and increasingly brought under greater control by Voldemort, until...

_Two brown eyes stared out of an agonized face, framed by a halo of bushy brown hair. The screams that were torn from her by the curse ripped through him as though they were his own. And he felt her pain and the desperate yearning to be free of it, and even though he had not cursed her, he saw how his cowardice and devotion to the Dark Lord had influenced his decision to stand aside while she was tortured. And, as though from far away, he could hear his own voice screaming in echo. And then he saw her unconscious form being offered to Greyback, and he felt Greyback's mind and intentions, and he vomited on the floor. Knowing what he had feared to know, that his own unwillingness would have extended to letting her be dragged away by the monster. _

A few more memories passed through him, shattering his mind and body with pain, till it finally ebbed away and he found himself panting on the floor, barely able to gather the last tears as they streamed down his face. And, finally, the pain was gone, and he stood shakily to his feet, wiping sweat from his face and longing for a drink, to rid himself of the sour, bitter taste in his mouth. Shakily, he sank into his chair, and then felt a horrifying pain in his left arm. Frantically he rolled up his sleeve and stared at the Mark on his arm. The faded blackness seemed to be weeping, as the disgusting figure of the skull and the snake melted and ran, and oozed, until there was nothing left but the outline of the mark, the magic having been drained from it.

Elation and wonder filled him. The magic was broken, and he could feel the damage to his soul mending, the burning blackness fading away. He leaned back, exhausted, and the crippling guilt that had driven him down to the dungeons the day before was gone, replaced by a deep and solemn sense of remorse and sorrow. Vaguely, as he sat, gazing at the mark that no longer tethered him to the Dark Arts, he felt a growing sense of purpose. How long he had sat there, thinking, he did not know.

His reverie was broken by a resounding crack that sent him leaping to his feet, to see a small house elf that stood quivering in his presence. He sank down into his chair, and stared at the elf, memories of the torment he had inflicted on Dobby rising painfully to the forefront of his mind.

"B...B...Bloody Baron sent Winky to check on young master." The tiny elf said her small voice squeaking in fear.

"Thank you." Said Draco carefully, cooly, "I am well."

Winky stared at him as though he had just grown an extra head, and then glanced at the stinking spot on the carpet." Master has been sick?" The little elf asked, as she snapped her fingers, vanishing the stinking mess. "Can Winky bring the young master anything?"

"A glass of water, Winky, if you don't mind." Draco said, half-heartedly.

Winky continued to stare at him. "H...has master had any food?"

"No." Draco said, suddenly realizing that he was desperately hungry.

"Winky will bring master something to eat." The house elf said, rubbing her little hands together nervously.

"Thank you, Winky." Draco said, "Nothing too elaborate, you don't need to go to any trouble for me, breakfast is only a few hours away."

"Master must be very ill!" Winky said, wringing her hands together more violently.

Draco looked up and stared at her. "Why is that?"

"Master must not mind Winky, it's the butterbeer. Winky cannot stay away from it! Sometimes Winky is too forward when Winky has had a little bit extra." Winky said, her face terrified.

"Winky, I'm not going to be angry with you, I'm just surprised. Now, please answer the question. Why do you think that I'm ill? I am perfectly fine, it was just a bit of sick."

"Master is being polite, master is being kind and thoughtful. Oh no, oh no, oh no!" Winky shook her head her eyes nearly consuming her entire face. "Master isn't DYING is he!" She let out a little shriek.

Draco laughed humorlessly, torn between humor and disgust at his former self and stood up, "I'm perfectly fine, just tired and hungry...and sorry." He said the last more soberly, "I've been horrible to your kind, haven't I? I wish I could make up for it...I wish I had been better to...to all of you." And suddenly his mind was flooded with images of poor, hurt, humiliated Dobby and his heart filled with remorse.

To his immense distress Winky started howling. "D...D...Dobby would be so happy! D...D...Dobby would be so proud of the nice young master. Dobby wouldn't know what to s...s...say." She took out a ragged piece of handkerchief and blew her nose on it rather loudly. "Winky will get some nice breakfast for the young master who is being so sad and kind." She disaparated with a loud bang, and Draco was left staring at the place she had vanished from with a bemused expression on his face. He checked his silver and green watch that his parents had given him for his coming of age; it was five in the morning. He paced the room thinking, his chin resting on his hand. With the remorse the blackness and the guilt had lifted from his soul, replaced with resolution and true regret and sorrow for all that he had done.

He wanted to do something to right the wrongs that he had been culpable in, no, he wanted to do whatever he could to right any wrong that he or his family had been connected to, and to help mend the world that he was a part of. Suddenly, the cunning of his Slytherin roots appeared to him in a new light. No longer to be used to promote his own status and name, no longer as a tool for his own self-service, he saw the use for something better. He took some parchment from his trunk along with his emerald inkbottle and his phoenix feather quill, and he began to write.


	3. Chapter 3: Mourning

_**(Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter Stories or any of the main characters, only the plot and a few momentary characters are mine. I've tried to stick as close to Rowling's stories as possible, but as the story progresses, I will deviate from it. Apologies for the swearing, tried to keep it at a minimum but the story didn't feel authentic without it.)**_

_**Chapter 3: Mourning**_

**Part 1**

Draco rose from the table at six in the morning. There was a pile of folded parchment in front of him, and his eyes were clear and bright despite his sleepless and tortured night. The meal that Winky had provided had been more than excessive, and the half that he had eaten had revived his spirits and given him renewed energy. Even though he had spent the night feeling the wrongs he had done to others, really feeling them for the first time in his life, he now had a sensation of being strangely cleansed and purposeful. Because he could now understand the cruelties he had been guilty of, the deep but confusing guilt he had been crippled by the night before had given way to a graver and more tangible remorse that drove him forward and motivated him. He changed into fresh robes and strode from his room, his jaw set in grim determination, as he thought of what might wait for him overhead. But he was done running, done hiding and being a coward. He would face whatever came, and do what he could to set things right.

He left the dungeons and made his way to the Great Hall, where Minerva McGonagal greeted him almost immediately. "Mr. Malfoy, are you quite well?" She asked him. "We were very...concerned when you disappeared yesterday morning."

"Yes, thank you, Headmistress." He said respectfully. Then smirked slightly when she gave a start and glared at him over her spectacles.

"Are you quite sure, young man? You do not seem to be yourself..." She asked, looking at him with the air of a hospital matron examining a patient.

"Quite sure, Headmistress, I had a...unique set of experiences yesterday and during the battle. My life was saved three times by Harry Potter. It…changes you, having your life saved by someone you were once...less than friendly with." Draco did not care to mention what had happened the night before, although he realized that it might become necessary in the future.

"Indeed. I imagine it would." She said, giving him the kind but severe glance that students now recognized as her signature stare. "The Bloody Baron said you had chosen an unusual path...Well. Right this way, Mr. Malfoy. Mr. Potter and I have some things to discuss with you."

Draco followed her, his hands in his pockets. He could feel the eyes of the other people in the room, and wondered if they reflected curiosity or hatred. There was so much work to do, to repair the wrongs he'd done, and some, he knew, could never be fully mended. He felt despair wavering on the edges of his consciousness, and then he looked up and saw McGonagal gesturing to a place at a table, where Potter was already seated. He turned the despair off and shoved it into a dark room at the back of his mind, as he sat down.

"Now, eat first, then we will cover the logistics." McGonagal said briskly.

They ate in silence, each of them immersed in their own thoughts and reflections. Sometimes Draco glanced at the other two, and he saw darkness and a sorrow on their faces, and their pain shot through him like a physical wound. This startled him, it was a new experience to really see another person's pain, and it highlighted, in his mind, the selfishness of his own despair.

They ate quickly, and as she finished, McGonagal wiped her mouth with a white cloth napkin and said, "Now then, gentlemen, down to business." They both nodded looked up at their Headmistress.

"Mr. Malfoy, much of yesterday was spent renewing the protective spells around the school, and renewing the charms that prevent muggles from seeing the grounds as they truly appear. As you were not present yesterday, you missed the announcement about the funeral for those who died fighting against Voldemort, which will be held today by the lake. They will be buried next to Albus Dumbledore's tomb." She sniffed and dabbed at her eyes with the handkerchief. Draco nodded, it was fitting, it was good, but his heart was uneasy.

"And…and what of the...the others?" He asked, his mouth dry.

"The bodies of the others were sent to their families." She said, her face hard and cold.

"And those that had none?"

"They were buried elsewhere."

He nodded numbly. It was sad, but it was more than he could have expected. "What about my aunt's body?" He asked.

She gave him a measuring look, and said, "Your parents have already overseen her interment in the Black family vault, which you are welcome to visit if you so desire." He could see the battle against hostility behind her eyes, and he shook his head.

"No." He said, "I don't care to see the body. I probably should, she was my aunt after all…but…" He trailed off; unsure of what to say to express what he was thinking, feeling. She nodded at him, a more friendly expression on her face.

Potter took up the explanations, "The funeral will be at 10 am this morning. We will leave any work that needs to be done till after then."

"What needs to be done?"

"We have a list, here." She handed him a sheet of parchment, with neat, small writing on it, which he recognized as Granger's.

He glanced down the list. "There are still...still blood stains in places that need to be cleaned up?" He asked. The other two nodded.

"The other teachers and I will take care of that before the families and friends arrive for the funeral." The Headmistres said rigidly.

"I'll take care of it." Draco said coldly, because he did not know how else to say it. Then, by way of explanation, "I didn't lose any loved ones, not really, it won't be as painful for me."

He saw Potter look up, startled.

"It will take some time." The Headmistress said, uncertainly.

"Then I'd better get started now." Draco said firmly. "Unless there was anything else?"

"Just a few quick things." Said Harry, his eyes guarded but interested behind his round glasses. Draco nodded to him. "Kingsley would like to meet with you and Ron and Hermione and I briefly after the meal which will follow the funeral. The inquiries have been scheduled in preparation for the trials, and he would like to inform us of the arrangements."

"Very well," Said Draco, feeling as though he was discussing his own execution, which he very well could be, if word got out…but he bit back the fear that rose up within him.

"Also," McGonagal interjected, "there is the question of where you will be staying for the rest of the summer. We know you have quarters in the Dungeons, which you are more than welcome to continue to use, however, all the other students, as well as the Weasely family, who will be staying here for the Summer to help with rebuilding the school; will now be housed in Gryffindor together. If you wish to join the rest of them, there is more than enough room in Gryffindor to allow you a comfortable bed."

Draco stared at the two people sitting across the table from him wondering vaguely if they had both taken leave of their senses, "Wouldn't...aren't there people who will object?" He asked dryly. "I mean…I know I'm not the most popular person currently, and for good reason. I've been a right git to most of them." He said the last sentence reflectively, speaking towards the table, so he failed to observe the expressions on the faces of the other two, who were gazing at him as quizzically as if he were a newly discovered species of unicorn.

"They have...accepted the idea that you might be joining our living quarters for the summer. Actually, I was under the impression that some of them rather enjoyed the idea of being able to keep an eye on you." Potter said, giving him a measuring look, waiting to see his response.

"I'll...think about it." Draco said hesitantly. He did not relish the idea of being in close living quarters with a large group of people with whom he had shared a mutual hatred, realizing that most of them probably still hated him. However, did he did not savor the idea of being the solitary resident of the dungeons for several months. It was a difficult choice. Draco remained resolute to pursue the path of seeking to reconcile and provide reparation for the wrongs he had done, but he was beginning to realize that the path that he was choosing was going to be a painful one.

Harry nodded, as though this was more than he had hoped for, but said nothing. Instead, he silently handed Draco back his wand.

'Thank you." Draco said, staring at, "I've missed this."

"I know. Mine was broken for a long time this past year...after a run in with Nagini...anyway, I know what it's like to be without your own wand. It's bloody miserable. Sorry I couldn't give it back to you sooner." Harry said.

"You had a run-in with Nagini?" Draco asked, shocked, but seeing that Harry had no intention of explaining further, he said, "Don't be sorry. I'm glad you had it. The Dark Lord wouldn't have been defeated if you hadn't, would he? Or at least, he might not have been defeated as quickly... And, well, I'm glad he's gone. So, thank you." He and Harry shook hands again, and he was embarrassed to see that the Headmistress was dabbing at her eyes with her handkerchief.

"One more question, Potter." Draco said quickly, "The Weasely family, are they staying because their home was damaged?"

Harry nodded slowly, "It was a strange house, mostly held together with magic. We think that the magic holding it together was broken a some point after the family had to abandon it, it's just a pile of rubble and building pieces now."

"Bloody war." Said Draco, bitterly, he'd never really liked the Weaselys, but that didn't mean he wanted their home destroyed. Harry nodded, and removed his glasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose tiredly, while the Headmistress gave a particularly audible sniff before marching off towards the hospital wing.

A short time later Draco headed out into the hallway, while everyone else was still eating. He cast a spell to detect blood in the corridor near the Great Hall. Much of it had already been cleared away, but he found a few places that had been missed. He used a scouring charm on it, trying not to wonder whose blood it was that he was clearing away. He did the same on all the floors, until he reached the left corridor of the seventh floor, which had suffered a devastating blow during the battle. As he rounded the corner, he instantly stepped back. Hermione and Ginny were sitting on the floor in front of a large hole that had been blasted in the wall. There was a patch of blood on it, in front of them, and Hermione had her arms around the other girl, patting her back soothingly.

"I...I just can't believe he's gone." Ginny said quietly, hiccupping through her tears. "I m-miss him so m-m-much."

"I know, I know," Hermione said, soothingly.

"A-are you sure he didn't...didn't..." Ginny couldn't get the words out.

"He didn't suffer at all." Hermione said soothingly, "He was laughing at a joke Percy made, and then he was gone. Just like that. I don't think he felt a thing."

There was a strangled sigh, and then Ginny said, "He...he would have liked that. Laughing at Percy's joke, he...he would have thought it really fitting. He always used to say that when he did go, he hoped he would die of laughter. Used to make mum so upset." And then she started sobbing again, quietly.

"Come on Ginny." Hermione said gently, after a while. "The funeral will be starting soon. Let's go get cleaned up." She rose and dusted herself off, and held out a hand to the younger girl who took it and rose stiffly.

Draco, who had sunk down against the wall next to the corner, took this as his cue to stand up and continue the job he had volunteered for. He took a deep breath and rounded the corner.

Hermione and Ginny looked up as they saw him, and he saw a glare of anger in Ginny's eyes. But he couldn't help himself. He stopped, and looked them in the eye.

"I'm really sorry." He said hoarsely, but trailed off when he couldn't think of what else to say.

"Thank you, Malfoy." Said Hermione, her brown eyes wide and quizzical. But Ginny just buried her face in her friend's shoulder and did not speak as they continued down the hall.

He watched them walk away, and felt a tight painful wrenching in his heart, that was beginning to become strangely familiar. He turned to the spot where the girls had been sitting, and saw the dried blood on the stones and wreckage of the wall. With swift, precise movements of his wand he cleaned the stones and then looked at the wall, hesitantly, before he waved his wand and sent the stones back to the places they had occupied before the battle. Whispering what he hoped was the proper incantation; he conjured a plaque over the spot where the hole had been. _On this spot, 2 May 1998, during the Battle of Hogwarts, Fred Weasely bravely met his end. _A sudden strange self-consciousness overtook him, as he turned and walked away feeling strangely guilty.

**Part 2**

Draco finished what he was doing only a short time before the funeral was about to start, and made his way out towards the lake. There were seats set up near the tomb and the coffins that held the bodies of the dead stood in a line along the edge of the lake, each wearing a gleaming silver inscription on the surface. The sun gleamed in the sky, reflected on the water, which lapped quietly against the shore. He could see the giant squid far out in the lake, and what looked like the heads of mer-people staring across at the group of witches, wizards, muggles and squibs seated on the shore. Despite the beauty of the morning, the air was heavy and weighty with grief, and here and there a faint sob could be heard, carried by the quiet breeze.

He stopped at a tree nearby and sat down under it, watching but not entering into a scene where he felt certain he would be likely to cause pain and anger. He stayed partially hidden around the side of the tree, listening to the solemn voice of the elderly wizard who was speaking in a kind and sorrowful voice.

_"Never," _the man said, his voice echoing gloomily off of the stone walls of the school, "_Never have I had to preside over the funeral of so many at one time. Never with so many young and innocent at once. Even during the first war against Voldemort, it was not like this, though many suffered and died tragically never before, in my lifetime, had there ever been a successful attack made on Hogwarts. Those lying here gave their lives bravely and without reservation to the cause of freedom for the wizarding world. They did not hesitate to join a battle that they knew could be their last, and the tales of bravery and strength are too many to adequately recount here. Our world will always remember them as those who fought bravely for the cause of justice and freedom, for the downfall of Lord Voldemort. And now proudly, but with a heavy heart, I would like to turn the podium over to those who have been chosen to speak on behalf of the dead, Mr. Harry Potter..."_  
><em><br>_Draco stood hurriedly, and moved around the tree to face the figure on the platform. Harry paused in front of the podium, before speaking. He removed his glasses, and wiped them on a handkerchief, clearing his throat before speaking. "I did not know all of those we are burying here today, but I know that they were brave and strong and that they were willing to die to see our world take hold of freedom once again. I can tell you that five of the bravest and most admirable people I have ever known died the second of May.

"Severous Snape." There was a stirring in the crowd, and Draco wondered how far the story of Snape's love for Potter's mother had gone. Harry continued, silencing the crowd, "Severous Snape, a man greatly misunderstood by many including myself, a man who loved deeply and whose bravery, intellect, cunning, and loyalty made it possible for us to destroy Lord Voldemort in the end. His life was one of remorse, which he spent deeply tormented by his betrayal of my mother, the only woman he ever loved, a betrayal, which eventually led to her death.

"Snape lived his life tragically, separated by a wall of grief and bitterness from the people who he helped and served the most. When he killed Headmaster Albus Dumbledore last year, he did so at the Headmaster's own orders, and I believe this tortured him for the whole of his final year, the password to the Headmaster's office the day he died was Albus Dumbledore. And yet he made every moment of his life count as much as he could. With his final breath he left me vital information that allowed me to survive facing Lord Voldemort, and defeat him in a final confrontation. Severous Snape must always be remembered for his bravery, his skill, his cunning, and most of all the love with which he served even those who despised him. He will forever be known as one of the noblest of his house.

"Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks, whose marriage this past year was greatly celebrated by those who loved them, had far too little time together." Potter stopped, breathing deeply, gripping the podium with white knuckles, when he continued his voice was broken, "Remus was afflicted with a condition that caused him to become a werewolf once a month, something that caused many to fear and hate him. But he was one of the best men, one of the kindest and bravest, that I have ever known. He was the last remaining close friend of my father's, and he cared for me as an uncle.

"Nymphadora, who her friends will always remember as Tonks, was a woman whose bravery and kindness and love will never be forgotten. She delighted and cheered her friends, even in the darkest times, with her abilities as metamorphmagus, a trait that has been inherited by their son, Teddy Lupin. Remus and Nymphadora died together, fighting for the cause to which they had devoted their lives. Together in life, together in death, they will live forever in the hearts of those who knew them." Draco bowed his head, and felt tears of remorse prickling in his eyes, as he recalled the callousness with which Voldemort had spoken of his cousin, telling his family that they needed to "trim the tree", he found himself bitterly regretting that she was now dead, leaving her child an orphan.

But he did not have much time to reflect, as Harry was still speaking. "Fred Weasley," with each name that he spoke Harry's voice became more and more rough and strained, "I saw Fred die, and he died the same way that he lived, laughing. Fred was a man whose tenacity and bravery and love for his friends and family were incredible. At even the darkest moments during the war he brought us laughter and hope. Only his twin brother George who sits here with us today matches his skill as a prankster and a wizard. He is greatly missed, not only by those who knew him, but also by everyone who has enjoyed patronage of the shop Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Fred Weasley will live on in our hearts and in our laughter.

"Colin Creevey." Harry said, and here he paused for a long time and the struggle on his face was painful to those watching, "Colin was a member of Dumbledore's army. He was brave and true and good, devoted to those he admired and proud to be a wizard. He was never to be seen without his trusty camera, and loved to record every moment through that lens. Colin believed so strongly in standing up for what he knew was right, that he snuck back into the school and fought in the battle after being asked to leave by the staff. He bravely fought against those who were much older than him. He is one of the greatest tragedies and one of the great heroes of the war. We are thankful to have his brother, Dennis, still among us. Colin and his bravery will never be forgotten." At this, Harry finally broke down, tears streaming down his face, and he left the podium abruptly, wiping tears from his eyes, and was engulfed by a sea of red hair, that filled the front two rows.

Harry was followed by several others, including a tall man with a long beard and hair, who closely resembled Dumbledore, but whose manner and turn of phrase was much less refined than the Headmaster's had been. Kingsley Shacklebolt stood and spoke of the bravery that had been evidenced in the battle, and awarded posthumous Order of Merlin 3rd class to those who had died. He also awarded an Order of Merlin First Class to Harry, Ron and Hermione, who received their rewards with expressions of reluctant sorrow on their faces.

As the crowd of people filed over to the already prepared graves, Draco sat back down, and stared out across the water. He could hear more words of memorial being spoken, but they barely seemed to touch his consciousness as he gazed out across the water. He could hear the sounds of weeping, and the thuds of dirt falling gently onto coffin after coffin. Far in the distance there was a haunting, musical sound, that reminded him vaguely of a phoenix song, and he wondered if Dumbledore's bird was somewhere nearby, mourning the dead. And somehow, the thought comforted him.

He stood and turned back towards what was now the Hogwarts graveyard, he could see Dumbledore's tomb, now standing like a sentinel over the graves of those who had fallen in the battle. His grey eyes were observant and alert, but they hid a heart in turmoil and pain. That so many should have died...that so many should have suffered in this way...and he felt the knife of regret twist in his heart, and sorrow poured from him like blood, but invisible. A figure broke away from the sobbing masses by the graves, and came towards him. It was a woman, a woman with curly brown hair that was beginning to turn to gray. She was tall and stately, and her face was so much like that of his aunt Bellatrix, that Draco took an unconscious step back as she approached. But her dark eyes, though proud, were kind and sad, and she was carrying a small bundle in her arms.

"Draco Malfoy?" She asked as she approached him.

"Yes, Madame." he said respectfully, "Would I be right in thinking that you are my aunt, Andromeda?"

She nodded, and he could hear the unshed tears in her voice as she said, "And you are my nephew, Draco."

"Your daughter, my cousin, she was Nymphadora...she married Professor Lupin..." He asked hesitantly.

"Yes." She said, gently.

And suddenly, his mouth was dry, and it was difficult to speak around the choking sensation in his throat. "This..." He gestured to the bundle, "Is this..."

"Their baby boy, Teddy Lupin." She said, and softly folded back the blanket that was covering the tiny boy's face. His hair was a brilliant shade of dark blue.

"His hair? Is it...how?"

"He's a metamorphmagus, just like my daughter."

Draco nodded, and then said, "I'm sorry. It's not fair that all of us survived when you have lost so many."

She smiled sadly, "They died bravely, and they died to make the world a better place for little Teddy. I wish they were here, but I am proud of what they did."

"Teddy, is that, was he named after..."

"After Nymphadora's father, my husband."

"He was a muggle-born. The one who gave the snatchers so much trouble?"

"One of many." She said, and there was a fierce, proud, anguished look in her eyes, that startled him and wounded him. "He would have been so proud to see his grandson. Remus always thought that we were horrified that Nymphadora married him, but we were proud. He was a brave and good man, and he loved her, though he was a little bit old for her."

"I'm sorry that he can't know them." Draco said quietly.

"It's not your fault." Andromeda said, almost sharply.

"But I'm still sorry, they didn't deserve this."

"No. But their memory will live on, and Teddy will grow up knowing that they died so that he could live in a better world than the one they grew up in."

"I wish I'd done more, been brave like they were." He said. "Maybe if I had been things would have turned out better."

"Or they could have turned out much worse. You can't live in the past, Draco." She said kindly. "You can only move forward, if you look too long at the past it will spoil the future for you, and taint the memory of the loved ones who died."

"I don't think I loved anyone who died." He said starkly, "I was friends with...with one person, but I'm not sure I really loved anyone but my parents until recently. I didn't know you could."

"Then love now. And keep loving, even when it hurts." She replied.

"I'm afraid." He said, and he was surprised at his own honesty. "I'm trying to be brave, but it's hellishly hard...sorry...I..."

But she surprised him by laughing slightly, "It gets better...easier with time. Ted, my husband, taught me that. I was so afraid when I first realized that I was falling in love with him, I tried to stop, but I just couldn't. Loving him, letting go of family prejudices, it brought out what was best in me."

"Can I do anything?" He asked suddenly, pushing aside the growing tremor that rose in his mind.

She looked at him thoughtfully, and then said, "Harry is Teddy's godfather. He's going to be visiting regularly, to get to know him and talk to him about his mum and dad. Come, be family, get to know Teddy."

"I will." He said. "I wish I'd known your family, growing up. Things might have been...different."

"It must have been hard, growing up in that great big house all alone."

"It was lonely, but mother was always there and my father, well, he tried. They loved me, in their way."

"Your mother was always an easier person to love than Bellatrix, much more caring. Much more kind, in her own cold way."

He flinched at Bellatrix name, and she noticed.

"I'm sorry," she said, "Was she...was Bellatrix very hard to be around at the end?"

"Azkaban...it changed her, mother said, she was more than a little insane by the time she came to live with us. But she can't have been that amazing to begin with. I've...I've heard her talking about what she and Rodolfus and the others did to the Longbottoms...And I've seen what she was capable of..." He trailed off, interrupted by a cold, clammy wrench in the pit of his stomach as the image of an unconscious figure being shoved into Greyback's arms rose in front of his eyes and he felt bile at the back of his throat.

"Bellatrix always was a little lacking in the finer emotions. I think she got the worst of the...that is to say, strange things happen when bloodlines are mixed too often...but, no need to get into that now." And, as if on cue, the baby began to cry heartily. Andromeda smiled down at him, making small, shushing noises, "He misses his mummy, poor lamb." She said. "I'd better take him up to the castle and feed him. It was...good to finally meet you, Draco."

"You as well." He said, and bowed to her, as she turned and headed towards the castle.

Draco followed her with his eyes as she walked away, and could hear the baby's cries, hearty and determined, inexplicably seeming to grow louder as she got farther from him. Then, the procession of mourners passed, coming away from the graves, led by a tearful Headmistress, who held her head high and proud, despite the tears that were visibly coursing down the soft wrinkles of her face and the small handful of black lace and linen clutched tightly in her hand. Flitwick walked behind her, wiping his eyes with a white handkerchief that was almost as big as he was. Then Hagrid, bawling into what appeared to be a large black tablecloth, with Professor Slughorn walking alongside him, patting Hagrid's back and dabbing at his own eyes with a large square of green silk. Pomona Sprout had her arm around a trembling Trelawny, who, in her grief, seemed to have confused one of her crystal balls with her handkerchief/ Firenze, the centaur, followed, looking dignified and noble, staring around with an abstract and interested air, as though the grief were something he could not quite understand.

And behind Firenze came Harry Potter, grim-faced, half-carrying Ginny Weasley, who appeared to have completely succumbed to grief, weak and white-faced and silent, her eyes closed and streaming. Arthur Weasley supporting his sobbing wife, his own face gray and wet. Percy Weasely, also crying openly, supported by Ron and Hermione who looked worn but stoic in their grief. Bill Weasely, the marks left by Greyback standing out harshly in his haggard face, holding his half-veela wife by the hand, his arm slung around another red-headed man, whose face was grim and hard.

Then came a muggle man and woman, holding hands and crying quietly, while a boy in wizard robes walked alongside them, his face blank and dazed. And Draco recognized him as Colin Creevey's brother, Dennis. And on and on the procession went, and Draco stood and watched, and felt the curious and sometimes hate-filled stares of the people who walked past, and he wondered if he should be there, and if he was only causing more pain. But he was rooted to the spot, mesmerized by the anguished scene before him and twisting knife of remorse and regret that sent agonies through him.

As the procession disappeared into the school, Draco looked down at his watch. It was half past eleven; 30 minutes till the meal would take place. He looked around, and then headed over towards the new graves, reading as he went:

_Colin Creevey, died bravely for his friends and for his school, still alive in love. _  
><em><br>Alavera McCreedy, gave her life defending the school she loved. Bravely she lived, bravely she loved, and bravely she died. Dead but not forgotten._  
><em><br>Remus Lupin: A dear friend, a loyal friend, a man who loved deeply, afflicted but not defeated, a man who loved well and was well loved by many. _ And, on the same stone but farther down. _Nymphadora Lupin-Tonks: A brave woman, kind and loyal, a good friend, treasured and beloved of many. In life they loved, not to be parted in death. _  
><em><br>_Draco rounded the next set of stones but stopped, and hurried back towards Dumbledore's tomb instead. He had almost stumbled over George Weasely, sitting in front of his brother's grave, his face buried in his hands, unconscious of Draco's presence.

**Part 3**

Draco stood in the shadow of Dumbledore's tomb, wondering what to do. He knew that he was one of the last people the remaining twin would want to see right at that moment, but he wondered if anyone should be told, and if there was anything he could do. But the whole time, his mind screamed at him that this was not a situation that he was equipped for, and that comforting another bloke whose friends and family he had taken pleasure in tormenting was not something that was really going to work. And, besides that, comforting anyone was not really something that Draco, favored son of the houses of Black and Malfoy, had ever really been trained for. He was relieved, therefore, when he saw Harry hurry from the castle, and head directly towards where George Weasley sat.

As Harry sat down next to George, the older man looked up and gave him a weak attempt at a smile. "Was it mum or dad sent you out here?" He asked, with unconvincing bravado.

"Ginny." Said Harry, simply, "She wanted to come check on you herself, but she's a bit ill at the moment, Hermione's looking after her."

"She's a sweet little fireball." George said ruefully, "I don't think any of us really deserve having her as a sister."

"Nonsense." Said Harry, with a weak attempt at humor. "Bill's a great brother to her." George let out a hollow laugh, and shoved Harry half-heartedly in the shoulder.

They sat in silence for a while, the laugh had died too quickly and it left an empty wall between them. Then George nodded towards his brother's gravestone, which bore the inscription: _Fred Weasely: Lived for laughter, and died with laughter on his lips. Fighting bravely for freedom and for right. _  
><em><br>_"He was ready to die, you know." George said, "We both were. We tried to prepare for a scenario where only one of us would live, but we just couldn't do it. So, instead, we made a promise that whichever one survived would carry on the business...carry on laughing...but I can't seem to do it properly, the laughing. I always thought that I would be the one to go first, or that we'd go at the same time. I never imagined this..."

Harry looked at him, not knowing what to say, and he was glad he didn't because George continued speaking. "Does it ever stop hurting so badly?" He asked. "Does it ever stop feeling as though you were being ripped to pieces?" And there was blackness in his tone that struck Harry like a fist in the pit of his stomach, and Draco, who was standing frozen not far away, felt the knife thrust of sorrow and remorse that seemed to be haunting him through the day.

Harry was silent for a moment, wondering what to say to make things better, but the look in George's eyes told him that he needed to hear the truth, not platitudes, so he said, "It changes...over time. One day you feel like you are death itself, as though the world is crushing you and there is nothing you can do to carry on. But somehow you do it, because you know it's what they would want. And then, one day, you wake up and you can breath again, and you can forget for a little while and life continues. But then the grief...it just sweeps back over you like a fresh wound, and you have to live through it all over again. But you get used to it, the pain, and it gets easier to keep going. I think it's just love, you know, that makes you carry on. Your love for them, and their love for you."

"How many people have you lost Harry?" George asked quietly.

"I dunno. I can't count them, it's too hard to put it into numbers."

"I'm sorry, I never really understood before." George said, regret in his voice.

"It's okay. Your family's been brilliant really. Always made it bearable, knowing that I had you lot to come home to during the summer. I never knew what it felt like to have a family that cared before I met you..."

They were silent again, and then Harry said, "Dumbledore once told me, ages ago, back in first year, that death was just another great adventure. I keep thinking of that whenever I think of Fred. Well, for all of them, really, but Fred most of all. You two always seemed to be in one great big adventure, and it just seems fitting, somehow, thinking of this as just another one for Fred."

"I like that." George said hoarsely, "Great bloody git, heading off an adventure without me."

"I'm glad you're still here, George." Harry said, "I know it's selfish, but we couldn't bear to loose both of you."

George grimaced, "Sometimes I wish it had been me instead. I think Fred would have coped better with all of this. I...I just needed to say that to someone."

There was an awkward silence, and then Harry said, "Come on George. Let's go up to the castle. Your mum's making Fred's favorite pudding, and the house elves are having kittens over a witch doing actual work in their kitchens."

"House elves having kittens? Now there's a thought." George said darkly, but as they walked away he threw a brotherly arm around Harry's shoulders. "You know, Harry, you really are family, and I'm really glad that Ginny has you. Mind, if you break her heart I will do unimaginably painful and horrifying things to you."

"I'm going to try and forget you said that. It's likely to give me nightmares." Harry returned, shuddering slightly. And George gave a dark, hollow laugh.

"Look at that, I laughed." He said blankly.

"I hardly think that qualifies." Harry said, and then they both let out a barking, mirthless chuckle.

**Part 4**

Draco sat awkwardly on a chair in McGonagal's study, while Harry and Ron shared a sofa with Hermione. Kingsley Shacklebolt was talking in hurried, quiet tones with the Headmistress, who was peering over her glasses with a stern look that would have made anyone less brave than Kingsley shake in their boots. She appeared to be objecting to something he was saying. Draco thought he heard Ron mutter something about "Extendable Ears" and smirked slightly. Finally, after what felt like an interminable amount of time, they seemed to come to an unsatisfactory but acceptable agreement.

Kingsley turned to the four seated by the fire place, "I apologize for the delay." He said, his deep voice grim, but kind. The Headmistress and I wanted to meet with you to discuss arrangements for the inquiry that you have all agreed to be a part of."

They nodded, expectantly, and Kingsley sat down on a large armchair next to the desk. "The inquiries will begin on the first of June, and continue for the entire month, and possibly into July. The trials for known death eaters who have been captured will continue after that time. We will also be issuing warrants for those known Death Eaters who remain at large, which will mean that the three of you, but especially Draco, will be in grave danger for a period of time. It is imperative that you remain at the school for the time being, now that the protective enchantments have been restored, the castle is once again one of the safest and most secure places in Britain. Mr. Potter, once it is safe to return to number 12, you can arrange to have a new Fidalius Charm placed around the property. And I suggest that you, Mr. Malfoy, do the same with your Manor." Draco and Harry both nodded, looking strangely at each other.

"Miss Granger, I understand that you have some business to attend to in Australia?" The Minister asked.

Hermione looked at him, her face suddenly pale, "I...that is...yes. But if I need to wait..." She trailed off looking worn and oddly confused.

"If you wish I can arrange for the ministry in Australia to locate your family. But with Death Eaters on the loose, they will be safer if they remain anonymous for a little while longer."

Hermione nodded, her fists tightly clenched in her lap. "That's a good idea." She said hollowly, "I can go look for them at any point, whenever the Ministry thinks it will be safe. Although the help of the Ministry in Australia would be beneficial, I...I don't actually know where they are at the moment."

Draco swore suddenly, surprising everyone in the room.

"What's your problem, Malfoy?" Ron said, turning on him furiously, while the others looked at him quizzically.

"N...nothing. I'm sorry, that was inappropriate," He said, giving Hermione, a regretful look. "I...apologize."

Ron flung his arm around Hermione, who was staring at her shaking hands, giving him a vengeful stare. But Kingsley and Harry looked at him with a question in their eyes. He shook his head subtly. Kingsley pulled a collection of rolled parchment from his cloak and handed them each one. There was the official ministry seal in red wax on each roll.

"These," Said the Minister, "are your summons to appear before the Wizengamot. The four of you have the most valuable and important information for the ministry among all the witnesses of your age. Therefore you are scheduled to appear before the ministry on the same day, which is scheduled to take place on the 8th of June. You will be appearing one at a time before the Wizengamot, and then as a group at the end to answer final questions. A room and refreshments will be provided for the day, but I suggest you bring any form of entertainment that you may require for a long day. Any questions?"

"What order will we be appearing in?" Asked Draco.

"Mr. Potter first, followed by Mr. Weasely and Miss Granger, and you will come at the end." Said Kingsley.

"Is there anything we should do to prepare ourselves for the inquiry?" Hermione asked.

"It will probably be useful for you to commit to memory any events or facts that would be useful to the inquiry." He looked at Draco, "That goes for you especially, Mr. Malfoy, any persons, facts, or events that might be useful and helpful to us are vital at this time. Several high-ranking Death Eaters are still at large, and it will be imperative for us to catch them, lest one of them rise up and try to take his master's place."

Draco nodded grimly, and said, "I know that my uncle is still free, as are Travers and Yaxley, I do not know the names of all those who were captured at the end of the battle. Lists of names of those you have in custody would be helpful."

"I'll see what I can do, Mr. Malfoy." Kingsley said. "Very well, then, I will see you all next week, I will be stopping in personally as often as I can to check on the progress of the school. I did receive your very interesting owl the other day, if you wish to discuss the matter further, I believe that Mr. Potter and myself can be available for a few more minutes."

He turned a quizzical eye to Harry, who replied, "Yes, of course. Not too long, though, I need to say goodbye to my godson." He blushed slightly, as though the phrase was a strange one to him.

"I would...appreciate that." Said Draco, "If it's not too much trouble."

"Not at all." Said Kingsley, turning a firm eye towards Ron and Hermione, "Thank you very much for your valuable time, Miss Granger and Mr. Weasely, I do not want to keep you from your friends and family any longer."

"What?" Ron asked. But Hermione elbowed him in the ribs, and nodded towards the door, "Oh, right." He said looking sheepish and they both rose, and said their goodbyes to the Minister, who Hermione hugged warmly leaving him looking a little taken aback. And they left the study quickly.

"Now, Mr. Malfoy." Shacklebolt said, "Would you care to explain your rather unfortunate outburst earlier, before we get into the…other interesting business at hand?"

"Yes, of course, sir." Draco said, feeling ashamed, "Hermione's parents were known to the Dark Lord…Lord Voldemort, that is, and the night that he took over the Ministry the location of their home was found. He sent two Death Eaters to their house to apprehend them and use them as bait. But, when they reached the house they were gone, without a trace. I believe that they may have destroyed, or nearly destroyed the house in their anger and fear. The Dark Lord was not…kind to his followers who failed in a quest he laid out for them, even if the failure was beyond their control." And he felt his eyes darken, as memories of torture and pain reverberated against his internal defenses.


	4. Chapter 4: Hermione's Secret

**Part 1**

Hermione woke up early, her mind still gloomy from her troubled sleep. The tent was so warm and comfortable. Wait, no, not the tent, the tower, and suddenly a sense of loss pervaded her entire body, numbing and painful. Luna lay in one of the beds next to her, the two beds across from her were empty and she recalled that the Parvati twins, who had been sleeping there after the battle, had left with their parents after the funeral the day before. The fifth bed was empty but showed signs of having been slept in, she vaguely remembered Ginny climbing into it, and wondered where she had gone.

She rose and dressed quietly in muggle clothing and a cloak to ward off the early morning chill. She picked up her shoes, and crept silently down the stairs. The common was full of sleeping bodies. Ron and Seamus sat with their heads on the table, snoring loudly, a half-finished game of wizard's chess in front of them, all the pieces snoozing comfortably in odd positions on the board. George lay on the floor in front of the fire, wrapped up in his painfully brilliant cloak. Harry and Ginny sat snuggled on the sofa, sound asleep. Ginny's head was resting on Harry's shoulder and her lashes were wet and sparkling in the light of a half-hearted fire. Dean lay in a phenomenally awkward position, stretched out between two armchairs giving a grand imitation of a bridge that had been attacked by blankets.

She gazed around at her friends, and smiled sadly, seeing the gaps in between the people. Fred, whose dark humor would never lift their spirits or grace their lives again. Lavender, who was lying on the edge of death in the hospital wing, too ill and fragile to move to St. Mungos. Colin Creevey, who would never annoy them with his pesky camera and his unending obsession with Harry's courage. And then she thought of Remus, and Tonks, and Sirius and Dumbledore. She was crying silently as she climbed out the portrait hole; sparkling, scorching tears coursed down her face. She brushed them from her face with her bare hand, slipped into her shoes and wrapped her cloak tight around her as she hurried down the hall towards the Headmistress's office.

When she reached the gargoyle, she asked it, "Is the Headmistress awake?"

The gargoyle yawned and blinked its tired eyes, "Not you too." It said gloomily, "Yes, the headmistress is awake. She has already had one visitor this morning. The hours everyone has been keeping lately..." Tiredness seemed to make it more chatty than usual, or maybe it just wanted to complain.

"I'm sorry." Said Hermione, "I'll just go right up and let you get back to sleep."

"Password." Said the gargoyle grumpily.

"Oh, right, Severus." Hermione said, almost choking on the name as the memory of the dying colorless face filled her vision. The door opened and she climbed onto the ascending staircase fighting to compose herself. By the time the stairs had risen to the top, Hermione's face was calm, and the only indication of sorrow was a vague redness around her eyes, barely visible in the growing light.

Headmistress McGonagall was seated at a table in the office and Professor Flitwick was seated across from her, swinging his short legs and dipping a chocolate biscuit into a cup of tea. They both turned as she entered, and McGonagall smiled a thin, kind smile, and waved her wand to bring a third chair to the table. "Come and sit down my dear." She said, "Have a cup of tea. I always find it quite bracing in the morning."

Hermione smiled, and sat down in the chair, taking the cup of tea that Flitwick sent towards her with his wand.

"How are you my dear?" The tiny charms professor asked.

"I...I...fine, I'm fine." Hermione said, furious with herself as she fought back tears again. She closed her eyes for a moment to regain her self-control, and then said, "Actually, I have a question I thought you might be able to help with. One that both of you might be able to answer, actually. I'm very glad you're here Professor Flitwick." She said, grasping the edges of her sleeves to keep her hands from shaking and smiling wanly at the little man who bowed genially towards her a vaguely concerned expression on his face.

McGonagall put down the cup that she was sipping from, and looked at Hermione over her glasses. "Go on dear girl, what is it? If there is any way that we can help, I assure you we will."

Hermione took a deep breath. "I was wondering about memory charms." She said and then paused.

Flitwick perked up, looking deeply interested. "Memory charms?" He asked, "Are you speaking of the False Memory charm, which adds to a person's memories, or are you speaking of Obliviate, the Memory Charm which removes a person's memories?"

"B-Both." She said. "I was wondering if you knew of cases where both charms were used, together, to…to alter a memory."

The professors stared at her for several moments, before the Headmistress said, "I am sure there are, in extreme cases where muggles have encountered particularly complicated magic, and have had to have their memories altered. However, it is usually adequate to either obliviate the necessary memories or to simply add an explanatory element to a memory with a false memory charm. Perhaps, Filius, you have some...other insight into Miss Granger's question?" McGonnagal looked at her colleague with an interested expression.

Professor Filius face was filled with intrigue and the intense fascination, usually only observed in an academic whose topic of study has arisen in conversation. "Well, there have been cases such as that, I believe, I can think of several instances involving larger sections of memories."

"And…and…do you know if the combined charms...if they can be reversed?" Hermione asked, "If the original memories can be restored?"

Professor Flitwick shook his head, his chin in his hand, gazing at his pupil with an air of academic interest, "When such charms are used, it is rarely with the intention of restoring the memories to their original form. The False Memory charm can be reversed, I know, although it is a very powerful and difficult magic. Albus was able to restore large memories altered by a False Memory Charm, but I know of few others who have achieved a satisfactory reversal of the spell." He smiled modestly, "Although, I, myself, can reverse small memory additions with a certain level of effort."

Hermione smiled at this, and looked a little hopeful. But the brightness left her eyes as the professor continued speaking. "Obliviated memories, however." He shook his head, "There is only one known way of reversing erased memories. And the method is one that no witch or wizard with any amount of kindness or love would be able to accomplish. The only known, and fully successful, way or returning erased memories is, I am afraid, the cruciatus curse. This, of course, is why Professor Lockhart is still signing autographs in St. Mungos with absolutely no idea of who he is at all."

The blood drained from Hermione's face, and she felt as though the bottom had dropped out of her world. She rose unsteadily to her feet, and stammered, "Th-thank you, Professor, Headmistress. I-I think I'd better go. Breakfast will be starting soon and I...I wanted to see Molly...Mrs. Weasley before..." She backed away towards the stairs.

"My dear?" The professor and the headmistress both rose, and they gazed at her with startled expressions on their faces.

"I'm fine." She said, making a pathetic attempt at a smile, "Fine, I just remembered something. Thank you professor, Headmistress, you've been most helpful." And she turned and ran for the door.

**Part 2**

Draco rounded the corner towards the office of the Headmistress just in time to see a figure with bushy brown hair disappearing around the corner. He gazed after her for a moment, and then walked over to the gargoyle, "Severus." he said, coolly, ignoring the painful clenching in his chest, and rode the staircase up to the office.

"Headmistress, Professor." He said respectfully, nodding to the witch and wizard who were sitting with cups of tea halfway to their lips.

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy." McGonagal said, "I was wondering if you had received my message last night. Well, do sit down; we have some important things to discuss.

Draco sat down, feeling a little apprehensive, and accepted the cup of tea that Flitwick poured for him.

"Tell me, Mr. Malfoy," Said Flitwick, "Are you familiar with the Protean charm? I believe I heard a rumor to that effect."

"I am...competent at it." Said Draco, but then added truthfully, "But Granger is really brilliant at it, if you need one done. She mastered it our fifth year." Inwardly smirking at the startled look that the tiny professor shot his direction.

"And, how are you aware of that? Mr. Malfoy?" McGonagal asked, looking at him as though he had suddenly transfigured into something very unexpected, which he supposed, in a way, he had.

"When I was part of the...inquisitorial squad fifth year, I figured out that it was how Dumbledore's Army was communicating." Draco said, "And then I used it to...when I was...well, I did it myself sixth year. But not as extensively as Granger did." He finished the last part a bit weakly.

"Amazing." Said Flitwick in his squeaky voice; "You were both doing Newt level charms in your fifth and sixth year. Absolutely brilliant, I knew you were both very talented, but I had no idea."

"I don't know," Said Draco, his pale face flushing slightly, "Granger did it for a good cause, I did it...well. I was a right twat..." He stopped, amazed at his own stark honesty.

"Well," Said the Headmistress, giving him a look that she usually preserved for members of her own house, "Perhaps you would be so kind as to assist Miss Granger with applying the charm to some parchment this morning, after breakfast. You can meet in Professor Flitwick's office at 9am, and he will explain to you what needs to be done."

Draco nodded. "Certainly, as long as Granger doesn't object to working with me. I don't want to be a source of discomfort to her."

"I will ask her if she objects." Said the Headmistress. "After you assist Miss Granger, you can report to Madame Pomfrey, as she seems to be the person in most need of assistance these days. Potter or I will give you further assignments as needed."

"Thank you Headmistress." Said Draco, "I...appreciate you agreeing to allow me to remain here over the summer. It is much more pleasant than it would be at the Manor, or the Ministry, for that matter."

"You are most welcome, Mr. Malfoy, and Merlin knows we need all the help we can manage. Now, hurry along and get your breakfast. You have just over an hour before you report to Professor Flitwick. If plans change, then either Potter or one of the other professors will inform you of the changes."

Draco rose and nodded to the professors politely, "Thank you Headmistress, Professor." He said, and left the room abruptly, slightly annoyed at being told to run along like a little child.

As he was turning into the Great Hall, he found himself face to face with a familiar figure, "Hello, Potter." He said. "I just checked in with McGonagal, anything I need to refer to you for." This was painful; having to humble himself in front of, what was Potter now, the Man Who Had Survived Twice?

"Oh, right, that's good." Said Harry, and they stood gazing past each other a little awkwardly, till Harry said, "Nothing on my end."

But Draco stopped him, "Look, um, I met my Aunt Andromeda yesterday and we, well we talked. And, if you don't object I'd like to come along when you visit her. If that's all right with you, that is."

Harry looked surprised, but smiled uncertainly, "No, that's fine, especially if Andromeda invited you. It will be good for her, and Teddy, having more family interested in them. It's been a really horrible year for her. What with everything."

"Yeah, that's what I thought." Draco said, looking at the floor, "Well, cheers then, I've got to go get my breakfast."

Harry nodded, and headed down the hall towards the grounds.

Draco ate quickly, sitting by himself at the Slytherin table, more out of habit than for any other reason, then he got up hurriedly and walked back out to where the graves were, walking among them until he reached Dumbledore's tomb. He stood staring at it for a long time.

"You made me an offer a year ago, and I wish I'd accepted it. Wish I could have accepted it. You saw something in me that I never saw in myself. You saw what I've wanted to be true all along, this past year, and now I think it might be becoming true. I want to be worthy of the trust that you put in me, when you offered me the chance of a different life. I would have taken it then, if I'd had a bit more time, I wish I had. I wish I could erase from my memory all the things that I saw last year. Wish I could go back and do things differently and not be such a bloody coward. I did things last year, horrible things, and I stood by and let horrible things to be done to other people, and I'm trying to follow the remorse, but I don't know if I'll ever be able to make things right. Wish you were here, you always understood people." He muttered the last bit and then turned and walked back towards the school, not noticing Harry, round the tomb and stare after him awkwardly as he walked away.

**Part 3**

When Draco entered Professor Flitwick's classroom at exactly nine in the morning, Hermione was already sitting in the room, staring out the window. She glanced around her shoulder as he entered, and then turned back towards the window and brushed the corner of her sleeve across her eyes, clearing her throat. "Morning Malfoy." She said, and her voice was sharp and slightly shrill.

"Good morning, Granger." He said coolly, but as gently as he could manage, wondering what had happened that made it so hard for her to hide her feelings. He took a seat near, but not next to her. Then he turned to look at her face, it was slightly red and blotchy, as though she had been crying for a long time.

"Um, would you be more comfortable without me here?" He asked, "I can ask McGonagall to send me somewhere else."

She stared at him as though he were a three headed dog, "Um," She shook her head, "No, Flitwick said it was a pretty big project, and since he and McGonagall have more pressing things to attend to, it's probably better if we do it together. I mean I've done the charm before, but it can take ages."

"Well, you're way farther along than I am." He said, humbly. "I've only done one master and another object, you did, what, 50 our fifth year?"

She nodded, "Yeah, how did you know about that?" She asked, interested in spite of herself.

"Marrietta Edgecomb told us all about it when Umbridge gave her the truth serum. Didn't you know?"

"No, I didn't know that she told about the coins." Hermione said, her head on one side, thinking, "That means you knew last year, but Neville said that the Carrows never figured out how the Army was communicating last year."

He scoffed, "Didn't tell _them_ did I? I might have been a coward and a bully, but I wasn't going to volunteer information that wasn't asked of me. Especially if it meant another person being tortured."

"You've…changed, Malfoy." She said, and looked as though she was going to say something else, but Flitwick walked in.

"Yeah, well, it's one thing to bully people, it's quite another to torture them." And he felt slightly ill, as memories of the past year's detention duty swam in front of him.

"Ah, Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy, so good to see you both back in my classroom. Two of my brightest students." The two young people looked at each other with their eyebrows raised.

"Well, then, well then." The tiny man said, "Let's see what we can do. We need something that will enable extensive and instant communication with all those who are working on repairing the castle. We were considering parchment, but there's a problem with the heat from the charm. I know you have both used fake Galleons, but those won't do in this case, as they are not large enough to send more than a short communication at a time."

"We could enchant the parchment to do something other than heat up." Said Hermione, with her best academic manner, "What if they ring, or rustle, or something like that?"

"What's wrong with them heating up?" Asked Draco, "We could just make the parchment impervious to heat."

"But then we'd have to do two charms instead of one." Hermione said, exasperated.

"But if we did it your way, we'd have to rework the charm that we already know. This way, we just use two charms that we are already familiar with."

"Oh. That actually makes sense." Said Hermione, giving him a strange look. "I guess ringing would get a bit annoying after a while, wouldn't it."

Draco stared at her, wondering if she'd lost her mind. Had she really just passed up an opportunity to argue with him.

"Well then." Said Flitwick, who seemed to have been enjoying their little discussion, "Now that we have worked that out, I have a stack of parchment right here on my desk for you to work on. I'll be back in an hour to check on your progress. We need a master parchment for each of the teachers and Mr. And Mrs. Weasley. Oh, and Madame Pomfrey and Madame Pince will also need one as well, then just a regular one for each of the other people staying at the castle. Also, we need the master parchments to be able to communicate separately between each other." He nodded to them encouragingly, and left the room.

Draco turned to Hermione; "I can do the impervious charm, if you want to start on the protean charm."

"Sure," Hermione said, handing him the stack of parchment.

They worked in silence for a little while, but the image of Hermione being tortured kept prodding the back of Draco's mind until finally, he put down the stack of parchment that he was working on and turned towards her.

"Look," He said abruptly, and she glanced up at him, "I was wrong and I was a coward, and I just want to say I'm sorry. You don't have to accept it, and I know there's probably nothing I can do to make up for what I've done, but I just wanted you to know that I'm really sorry."

She stared at him for a moment, and then her eyes narrowed, "What exactly are you sorry for?" She asked suspiciously.

"For calling you names, for being unkind, for not helping you when...when...my aunt was hurting you." The last was spoken as a whisper.

"Oh." She said blankly, "Thank you. But the last one, there wasn't really that much you could do about it was there?"

"Don't...don't try and excuse it." He said, a little harshly, "I was a coward, I knew the whole time that there was probably something that I could do, but I was too afraid for my own life to actually try anything."

She looked at him, startled. "Oh, ok. But...well, I forgive you or at least, I do right now. We all did things in the war that we didn't feel right about. That weren't right. It wasn't just you."

"What could you possibly have done that wasn't right?" He asked, and to his distress her eyes filled with tears. "Oh Merlin, look I'm sorry..."

She shook her head, "No, don't be. I'm fine. Just being silly."

He rolled his eyes, "Granger, I don't think that you're capable of silliness, and after everything that you've been through this year some tears are probably necessary."

She stared at him, the tears drying up in her astonishment, "You've changed." She said.

"I saw you bleed." He said quietly, "And your blood was just as red as mine. And you beat me in every class for six years, which was infuriating by the way. I just realized that all the things my parents taught me learned about muggle born witches and wizards was just a load of dragon dung."

She smiled at him, "Wow. I never thought I'd hear you say that."

"Neither did I." He said. Then he conjured a glass and whispered, "Aguamenti." and handed it to Hermione when it was full. "Have a drink and we'll get back to this lot. We're nearly done."

When they finished, Hermione took the stack and said, "I'll take these to Flitwick. See you later...Draco...can I call you that?"

He nodded, and then said, "Wait, how...how are you able to forgive me so easily?"

She gazed at him for a moment, then said, "It's not really easy, and, mind, I don't promise not to get angry about it all again…it's just that, well, I don't ever want anything like what happened this year to happen again. But if we keep seeing each other as enemies then we're really just preparing for the next war, aren't we? If the side that wins can't forgive the losing side, and the other way around, and if we can't acknowledge when we're wrong, then the next war has already begun. It might take ten years, or twenty or a hundred, but it will happen in the end. And I don't want it to happen, ever, if I can help it, which I probably can't. But if you're willing to be sorry, then I want to be willing to forgive."

He stared at her in amazement, and breathed, "You really are rather amazing."

She blushed and looked a bit annoyed, "I don't know, I just like reasoning things out and learning. There's better things, I just work things out sometimes."

"What do you think is the best thing?" he asked.

"Love." She said simply. "After all, it was because of love that Harry was able to defeat Voldemort in the end. I don't mean romantic love, although I guess that can be a part of it, I mean love that goes beyond just our relationships and ourselves. The kind of love that makes it possible for enemies to be friends, and friends to be like family." And her eyes drifted away, and Draco wondered whom she was thinking of.

"I think I'm beginning to understand that kind of love, a little. I've only ever known family love, you know, the kind that comes from being related to someone. What you're talking about is the kind of love that you three showed when you rescued Goyle and I from the fiendfyre."

"Yeah, that's it." She said quietly. "Well, I'll see you later Malfoy."

"See you, Granger." He replied, and inexplicably found himself fighting a choking sensation in his throat.

**Part 4**

Draco ended up in the dungeons for the afternoon, helping Slughorn brew potions for Madame Pomfrey. When they had brewed enough of the standard healing potions, blood replenishing tonic, dreamless sleep potion, calming draught, and a few others, the professor clapped him on the shoulder with a small, stubby hand. "Well done, my boy, well done! You are clearly as proficient as Severus was, when he was your age. Very talented boy, not quite a Harry Potter, mind you, but very talented."

Draco hid a dry smirk, when the potions master mentioned Potter's "proficiency" with potions, which Draco was certain, had been due to at least a small amount of cheating, but he said, "Thank you sir." Respectfully.

"Tell me, my boy, are you planning on returning to Hogwarts in the autumn? Several of your peers will be, including a few Slytherins, a couple of whom joined in at the end of the battle to help defend the school."

"Ah, yes, Zabini and Nott and Greengrass as well as a few of the others I believe? Never thought that Nott would openly oppose his father like that." Draco said quietly, then in a more normal voice, "Yes, I think that I will be returning next year, and possibly stay for an extra semester, as my sixth year was a bit...disrupted."

Slughorn nodded, a little too knowingly, "Yes, yes. Of course, He-who-must-not-be-named had a habit of doing that to his followers."

"I was hardly a follower of his, really." Said Draco hotly, irritated at the man's knowing tone, "I know I have the mark, and he was operating out of my house, but I was not an avid supporter...even long before the war ended."

Slughorn looked at him sympathetically, "Now, now, now, no need to get angry, my boy. No need, no need. Now, help me bring these up to the Hospital Wing."

As they levitated the case of freshly brewed potions up from the dungeons, Draco thought he heard the sound of someone crying coming from a deserted hallway, he carefully noted the location realizing that Professor Slughorn had not heard anything, as he was busy nattering away about the Hollyhead Harpies. He wondered cynically how the man could remain so shallow when so much had happened. When he and Slughorn had finished delivering the completed potions he returned to the hallway, pausing at the entrance to it, before steeling his nerve and walking up it, his hands shoved deeply into the pockets of his robe. What he saw made him stop in consternation.

**Part 5**

Dinner was well underway by the time Draco made it back to the Great Hall. Tentatively he approached the Gryffindor table where Harry Potter and the Weasely family sat, accompanied by Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan, and cleared his throat. Harry turned, and looked astonished to find himself face-to-face with Draco. "Draco, what is it?" He asked abruptly.

"Lovegood asked me to come find you. Granger…Hermione, seems a bit upset... Lovegood seemed to think that you'd be able to help. They're in the Charms classroom right now."

"Right." Said Harry, putting down his fork and wiping his mouth, as he and Ron began to clamber over the bench. But they both froze as George said bitterly, "Running errands to help the mudblood now, are we? Wanting to look good so everyone will overlook your being a Death Eater?"

Mrs. Weasley said, "George!" in a shocked, reproachful voice.

Draco turned to look at George, a vicious retort on his lips, but it died there when he saw the agony and anger in the other man's face. He bowed his head for a moment, then looked back up at him, saying, "There's no such thing as a mudblood, Weasley. All blood is valuable. There's just witches and wizards, and I think we're pretty much all the same, really." He nodded to the rest of the table, politely, rotated on his heel, and slouched over to the Slytherin table, his head bowed slightly.

As Draco walked away, Ron and the others stared after him, with looks of shock and amazement on their faces. "Merlin's beard, I think the world might be coming to an end!" Ron muttered loudly, as he and Harry hurried away.

"I'm going to go and sit with that boy!" Said Mr. Weasley, rising suddenly and grabbing his plate and cup, "He looks like he could use a friend."

"I'm coming to!" Said Neville, slopping pumpkin juice over the table as he rushed after the man.

"Great Bloody Merlin's Beared ghost more like," Said George staring after his father. And Dean and Seamus nodded in chorus with him, adding their own expletives into the conversation as Mrs. Weasley tried to give all three of them a look of disapproval all at once.

"Well." Said George, "If Ronnie's right, then we might as well go out with a bang." As he pulled a bottle of Fire Whiskey from his pocket and beginning to pour glasses and hand them around the table.

"George Weasley!" Mrs. Weasley had finally found her voice.

"Come on, mum." George said, handing her a glass, "Drink up, we're toasting the end of the world, aren't we?"

She took the glass from him, smiling weakly, and gazed over at her husband who was talking amiably with the son of a man he had hated for as along as he had known him. She raised her glass, and drank the whiskey, then looked at the others and shrugged. George just nodded and poured himself another glass.

Draco was pretty certain that he had never had such a surreal experience in his life. Arthur Weasley, father of the once despised clan, and Neville Longbottom, former favorite subject of his bullying, suddenly sat down across from him...and smiled. He stared at them, wondering if he had finally gone completely mad.

"That was very good, what you said back there, my boy." Arthur said kindly, "Took a lot of bravery."

"I...well, that is...it's just true isn't it?" Draco said, "I just wish I'd realized how true it was a long time ago. It could have prevented...that is...things might have been different. I can't spend my whole life being a cowardly ass, can I?"

"Well." Said Mr. Weasley bracingly, "Those were not the words of a coward or an ass. And it was very good of you to reply to George the way you did..." He stopped, and shook his head sadly.

"No offense, mate," Said Neville, looking at Draco shrewdly, "but really, what changed? I mean, you've never seemed that bothered by using...THAT word to describe Hermione and other muggle borns in the past."

Draco stared at the table darkly, and for a moment looked like he wanted to hurt it, then he said, "A lot of things changed, really, slowly, and quickly. No matter how much I tried to ignore it, it's always been obvious that Hermione was the best in our year. And then there's the idea that muggle borns really just stole magic, which is just a load of stinking rubbish. I mean, really, if you could steal magic there wouldn't be any squibs, now, would there?" He unconsciously spoke the same words that Harry had spoken earlier that year.

"Then, of course, there were the things the Death Eaters were doing..." And suddenly he felt old and drawn and drained, as he whispered, "The things that I was forced to do as a Death Eater." He didn't look at his two companions, afraid of what he would see. But if he had, he would have received looks of horrified pity.

"When..." Mr Weasley cleared his throat, "When did you..."

"I took the mark the summer before sixth year." He answered.

"Blimey." Said Neville.

"So, Harry was right." Said Mr. Weasely.

"Yeah." Said Draco. "At first I was proud, couldn't understand why my mother was so terrified. But then I slowly began to realize, I wasn't a free, privileged member of an elite society...I was a slave, and Voldemort was my master. And if I didn't do everything to perfection he would torture or kill me."

"16." Said Mr. Weasley, his voice distant and mournful, as he thought of his own children at that age.

"It still doesn't justify what I did though." Draco said, harshly, "I did horrible things. Things I wish I could erase from my memory...things that sometimes make me wish I could erase myself. But I have to remember them because they happened, and I just can't push that aside."

"It does explain things, though." Said Neville, kindly. "Actually, it explains a lot. I mean some of the things that happened last year were dead confusing. Like when the Carrows put you in charge of first year detention. They said Alecto told you to use the cruciatus curse on them, until you thought they'd learned their lesson. But the kids said you just told them to scream as long as they could, one at a time, and sat down against the wall and closed your eyes. Some of us thought you were just too lazy..."

Draco shook his head, "I know I've been a bully, but torturing kids...well, that was stupid and pointless and evil. Really evil, and I just couldn't do it. I know that there were times when I did...but only when I couldn't see a way out of it."

"They made you torture children?" Mr. Weasely asked hollowly, and there was horror etched on his face.

Draco nodded, "Neville was the bravest." Draco said, as the other boy flushed uncomfortably, "He just flat out refused, would look Carrow right in the eye and tell him where he could stick his curse." He chuckled humorlessly at the memory.

"Someone had to stand up to them." Said Neville modestly, "Kids were loosing hope, and it always made them feel better when someone didn't let the Carrows win. At the end of the day, enduring the curse a few times was a better evil than seeing hopelessness on people's faces or…or watching a kid being tortured. Ginny was really brave too." The last was spoken quietly.

"Ginny." 's voice was suddenly hoarse. "Did she..."

"Yes." Said Draco and Neville blankly.

The older man blanched and rose unsteadily to his feet, "Excuse me, gentlemen, I need to go find my daughter." And he strode out of the Great Hall.

Neville turned towards Draco after they watched Arthur leave, "I probably shouldn't have mentioned Ginny." He said, "I just thought that she would have...you know...told someone."

Draco nodded silently, but his mind was somewhere else, "I need to tell you, something." He said his eyes dark and defiant, "I need to tell you that, well, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have bullied you the way I did all those years. Everything I did to you, it was cruel and pointless, and at the end of the day, you turned out to be a far better man, better person, than I could ever be; braver and stronger, too. I know I can't undo the things I've done, but I wish I could."

Neville gave Draco a speculative stare, "Thank you." He said, then paused in thought, "Why don't we take Hermione some dinner, I don't think she ate much lunch. And, Draco, I will forgive you soon. I just need some time. But for now…" and he held out his hand to Draco, who shook it.

"I can't ask for fairer than that." Draco said, and turned to pour a glass of pumpkin juice, while Neville filled a plate with food.

As they entered the hallway that led to the Charms classroom, they saw Hermione sitting against a wall, with Harry, Ron and Luna surrounding her. Ron's voice drifted through the door towards them, "It's all right, Hermione, we can go with you to get your parents."

"No, you don't understand." She was saying, "They won't know who I am."

Draco's blood froze.

"But, Hermione," Ron said, in confusion, "You can just reverse the spell. You used a False Memory Charm, right?"

"Think, Harry." Hermione said, her voice thick and bitter, "A false memory charm adds to memories, it doesn't take them away. Only one thing takes away memories."

"Obliviate." Harry said numbly.

"And there's only one way to retrieve obliviated memories." Hermione said, staring fixedly at the wall.

"The Cruciatus curse." Said Draco, his voice hoarse, and Hermione nodded numbly, before burying her face in her hands, as the others stared at her in a horrified silence.


	5. Chapter 5: Surprising Events

**As We Survive: Part 1 – The Evolution of Draco Malfoy: Chapter 5 – Aftermath**

_**(Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter Stories or any of the main characters, only the plot and a few momentary characters are mine. I've tried to stay as close to Rowling's canon as possible, but as the story progresses, I may deviate from it. Apologies for the swearing, tried to keep it at a minimum but the story didn't feel authentic without it.)**_

**Part 1**

It was early morning on Wednesday the six, four days after the Battle, but it seemed like an eternity had already passed when Draco walked down the dungeon corridor towards the potions classroom, pondering the events of the past week. He could barely fathom what had come to light about Hermione's parents. He thought about the sacrifice that his own mother would have made for him, what would have happened if the Dark Lord…no, Voldemort, had discovered her betrayal earlier than he did. He recalled all the sacrifices that had been made within the walls of the school, the repeated beatings and torture of the older students as they tried to shield the younger ones from the sadistic Carrows. And, once again, a sickening sense of guilt filled him. Numbing, painful. He stopped and leaned against the cold, hard wall for a moment.

"Draco my boy!" The pompous voice of Horace Slughorn broke through Draco's reverie. The man was coming down the hallway behind him.

The young wizard rolled his eyes, muttering "Merlin." under his breath. After the battle had ended, and it was revealed that Draco and his parents had turned on Voldemort, Slughorn's previous attitude of indifference towards him had evaporated. The man now treated him with nearly as much grating favor as he did Harry and Hermione. Even the man's attitude towards Ron and the most of the other Weaselys had transformed from genially ignoring them, to sickeningly ingratiating himself towards the entire family. For a Slytherin, the professor was painfully obvious in his attempts to align himself with those who were most likely to be in power. Surely he could at least put on a façade of self-restraint and try at a bit of subtlety.

The youngest Malfoy smoothed the sneer of distain from his face before turning to face the Professor. "Sir?" He said with cool respect, raising an eyebrow.

"We have quite the list of potions to create today, quite a long list." The man said, rubbing his hands together gleefully, seemingly untouched by the fact that the potions were needed for those who lay dying and wounded in the hospital wing and at St. Mungo's. "I'm lucky to have such a promising young man at my disposal. Definitely promising, or perhaps even brilliant, you certainly rival even Mr. Potter's finesse. Pity he is in so much demand elsewhere, but well, you are definitely skilled in the noble art. Yes, my boy."

It was with difficult that Draco refrained from rolling his eyes at the insufferable man. Draco knew for certain that Harry had cheated his way through sixth year potions. He was not sure how, but it was his duty, as a leading member of his house, to be able to spot a cheater when he came across one. He could no longer begrudge his fellow student, as it seemed that whatever he had done had eventually helped to ensure the Dark Lord's defeat, but he would have liked to know the method that Potter used...if only for professional reasons, a Slytherin would never stoop so low as to desire something simply to satisfy curiosity.

Draco followed his professor down the rest of the way to the potions classroom, effectively ignoring all but a vague hum, representing the man's pompous nattering until Slughorn actually said his name. "I'm sorry professor, what was that?"

"Lost in thought," the man said, smiling infuriatingly under his walrus mustache. "Well, well, well, young minds do tend to wander. I was wondering if you had ever brewed Wolfsbane Potion."

"I've had some experience with it." Draco said calmly, ignoring the chill that flushed through his veins as the face of Fenrir Greyback rose in his mind. "Professor Snape taught it to me the summer after my fifth year."

"Snape did?" The professor raised an eyebrow, "Well, well, well then. I can only assume that you are well versed in it then. Brilliant man, Snape, strange but brilliant, one of the best students I ever had I believe. Absolutely incredible talent, too bad he died. Eh?"

"Yes." Said Draco coldly.

"Well, then," Slughorn said after an awkward pause, "One cauldron each of wolfsbain potion, for those who were attacked by Greyback and the others during the battle. Most of them won't experience the full turn, as the full moon had finished the night before, but several of them are showing concerning symptoms."

"What about Brown?" Draco said, his mouth suddenly dry. "Will she…"

"She was bitten the worst, I believe. Poor girl." The man shook his head sadly, and for the first time a crack showed in his usually jovial exterior, "Bad business that. Would have died if not for you and of course Miss Granger's actions as well. She was the one who blasted the horrible man off the poor girl."

"Will it…will it leave a scar?" Draco asked.

"Most likely, Mr. Bill Weasely still has his scar and he was not bitten nearly as badly as she was. The poor child was grotesquely savaged, and the last full moon had ended so recently. Never seen the like of that battlefield in all my days. Even in Voldemort's first rise, he never went after children the way he did this time." The older man shuddered and there was a lost and broken look about him that somehow made him seem more human and likeable.

Draco nodded, and felt the special pocket in his robes that held the small vials of glowing blue. A vague resolution beginning to form, in tumultuous currents that flowed under the smooth surface in his mind. "All I remember of that night is blood and fire and smoke and fear, and the screams." He shuddered, and turned back to his cauldron and the recipe for the potion. He could feel the Potion Master's gaze on his back for a long time afterward, but continued to ignore it until the other man turned away, to work on his own potion.

It was noon before he finished the first lot of potions and Slughorn gave him leave to go up to lunch. He rushed to his rooms and changed his robes, looking around the empty common room decorated with skulls and shivered. Each day they looked more sinister and accusing, and he could hardly bear to walk through the room to his own luxurious quarters when it meant feeling the empty eye sockets staring at him. The green glow that had once seemed so proud and mysterious now only reminded him of the Dark Mark and the huge snake and the fear that had become an almost permanent fixture in his parent's eyes.

But it was the memories of his former years at the school that haunted him most. The cruel words about those who were muggle born, the wishes for enemies dead that now seemed so calloused and cruel. Enemies who, he realized now, were never enemies at all. And his former naïve designation of the term both shamed and horrified him. But it was the desire to stand in his "rightful" place above others…all things that had once seemed so natural that were now most abhorrent and horrifying to him. And it felt as though the wrongs he had done were standing around him and the dead students that he had mocked and bullied whose crushed and broken bodies haunted him as he slept. He stood for several moments as the anguished guilt washed over him, and the turned with a swirl of robes and entered his dorm.

**Part 2**

Draco hesitated for a moment as he looked around the Great Hall. There were fewer people every day, as the numbers continued to dwindle to only those who would remain for the summer to rebuild the school and re-establish the defenses that protected it. The Weaselys, he knew, had no home left to go to, as the Burrow had been burned to the ground the previous year when Death eaters had learned of their deception concerning Ron's pretended illness. They would be staying till the Burrow was rebuilt. Longbottom would go home with his Grandmother for a few days, but he would also be returning to stay for the rest of the summer. Many of-age students from the other houses had gone home with their families directly following the funeral, but would return soon to help make sure the school was ready for the younger students who would be attending in the fall.

Neville looked up and met Draco's eye and waved him over to where he sat with a motley group who were all members of the DA and the Order. Draco hesitated a moment, before heading over. He was tired of his self-imposed isolation, and even with the burdening guilt knew that any more time spent alone with Slughorn as his only company would send him into madness. He approached with an unfamiliar uncertainty that made him laugh sourly to himself.

"Draco!" Neville said, greeting him with a friendly smile, "Sit here." He gestured to a seat between himself and Seamus Finnigan. Draco hesitated for a moment, not fully liking the look in the Irishman's eyes.

"Would you mind, Finnigan?" He asked.

"Have a seat blondie." The shorter man replied, "But if ya try anythin' funny, I'll be damn sure to hex ya." And there was something about the wink that followed his comment that sent a chill up Drao's spine. He sat down uncertainly, and was thankful that Neville had left a large gap between himself and Finnigan. He knew that most of his fellow students had yet to forgive him for his involvement with Voldemort, and was surprised to find that those who he had in some way harmed, directly or indirectly, were more willing to forgive him than their friends were. It came as no surprise when he saw the feral gleam of anger in their eyes, and Finnigan, despite his diminutive stature, made him more than a small amount of nervous. His classmate had proven that he was brave to the point of foolishness and reckless of both life and limb.

It did not surprise him, therefore, when he heard the Irish voice whisper in his ear, "I'll be watching you Malfoy, take my word on it. Ye do anythin' to hurt any of us here, and I'll bash your head in, so I will, and don't ye forget it."

Draco nodded, and replied quietly, "I wouldn't expect anything less of you, Finnigan." And he met the blazing blue eyes with his cool grey ones.

"Right then, that's settled. How about a glass of pumpkin juice, Draco." Hermione said awkwardly, from her seat between Ron and Dean.

"Ye weren't supposed to hear that." Seamus said, looking more than a little disgruntled.

Hermione smirked at him, "I don't need to hear you, to read your expression, Seamus. You're about as subtle as a Red Cap."

"Makin' fun of me size now are you, Hermione?" Seamus said, in an offended tone, then laughed when she turned red and began to stammer saying. "I'm only playin'."

The tension that had blanketed the table moments before evaporated, as everyone laughed nervously and Harry said, from Ron's other side, "Seamus have I ever told you that you have a talent for making people uncomfortable?"

Seamus laughed, "It's a gift."

"Harry and Ron." Said Dean, turning towards the other two and giving his best friend a look of reproachful amusement as a he changed the subject, "When do you two start Auror training?"

"Beginning of August." Harry said, "There's lots of room for more if any of the rest of you want to join as well. Neville's going to be splitting his time between here and Hogwarts so he can get a little more education under his belt, and Parvati and Padma have already said that they'll take the tests and give it a try for a bit."

"I'll be goin' home for a bit, after me face is back to its former beautiful self again." Said Seamus, caressing his ravaged cheek, "Then I'm coming back to finish me NEWTs. I may try to join the Aurors in Ireland after that, been away from me mam to much lately but she hex me senseless if I decided to give up on me schooling now." He spoke the air of a man who did not care who knew how close he was to his mother, and would willingly fight anyone who gave him a hard time about it.

"I'm going to finish the year out as well." Said Dean, "After months of sleeping under the stars and running from Snatchers, I want a nice soft pillow under my head and a year of studying in a warm and dry place is looking more and more pleasant."

Harry shrugged, "That's fair. Although I'd hardly call the Castle warm."

"It's warmer than a mountainside over a Scottish Loch on the first of January." Dean replied mildly.

"Very true."

"What about you, Luna." Ron asked, "What are your plans?"

"I'm going to finish my NEWTs of course, and then Daddy and I are going to go to the Brocéliande forest in Brittany to look for the Bugul Noz that lives there, daddy thinks he knows where the Crumple-Horned Snorkack are. I've always wanted to meet a Bugul Noz, they're very misunderstood creatures on account of them being so hideous to look at, and it will be really good for Daddy's health traveling outdoors so much."

As often happened when Luna spoke, everyone was speechless for a little bit, until Ginny asked uncertainly, "How is your dad, Luna?"

"Azkaban was very hard for him, it's badly infested with wrackspurts, and the Dementors were particularly brutal with the prisoners while Voldemort was in power. But I took him some herbal tea the other day and it seemed to perk him up a bit. Neville is helping me with some herbal remedies and Professor Slughorn and Draco have been brewing the most lovely potions." Luna smiled around dreamily, "I'm sure that he'll be perfectly fine in a few weeks."

Draco ate in silence, until the post arrived. For the first time in all his years at Hogwarts, he was the only person to receive nothing when the owls arrived. Potter had a stack of around eighteen letters, Ron and Hermione each had a copy of The Prophet, and then he saw a Howler land in front of Seamus who sat staring at it in shock for several moments, before letting out a roar of laughter which was, quite frankly, rather disturbing. Draco had never seen anyone react to a Howler with laughter before. "It's me mam." He said. "Good to see she's doing well."

Dean was also laughing as he said, "You'd better open it mate, it's beginning to smoke."

Seamus picked it up, and opened it, "Seamus Padraig Finnigan." Were the only words that anyone at the table understood as a stream of Irish issued from the smoking letter, which ended suddenly with the words, "And I'm so proud of me boy, lots of love to ya, and be sure to come home soon."

Seamus who had been grinning through the entire rant, turned bright red at the end and muttered fondly, "She knows how to embarrass me now, doesn't she?"

"What was that about Seamus?" Dean asked.

"Well, of course she's angry that I got meself involved in a war. And she said I scared her half out of her mind when she got me patronus telling her all was well, because, of course, she didn't know what was going on now did she?" He looked thoughtful for a moment, "Come to think of it, she might not have known I could produce a patronus, hope it didn't give her too much of a shock now."

"So you sent your mum a patronus telling her you were all right, when she didn't even know anything was wrong?" Hermione asked him, "Are you completely mad?"

"Well, I knew that she'd hear somethin' eventually, and so I wanted her to know before news of the battle reached her, that everything was all right." Draco looked around and notice that the rest of the girls were staring at Seamus with a mixture of horror and amusement on their faces, while the rest of the male population at the table simply looked confused.

"Ginny," Said Hermione, turning to her ginger haired friend, "Are all boys completely mad, or is it just the ones that we know?"

"Oh, come on now, I think we're more than boys aren't we?" Neville asked in mild amusement.

Ginny rolled her eyes, "Yes, Hermione, all of them are completely mental."

"I think it's the wrackspurts." Said Luna in a conspiratorial tone "They've been a bit more bold since the battle."

Draco looked up and down the table and got up abruptly, "I think you're all a bit mental." He said, "Must get back to potions. Thank you for your…delightful company." He turned and walked up to the head table where the Headmistress and Madam Pomfrey sat chatting amicably. It made him more than vaguely uncomfortable to hear a murmur of laughter behind him. Since the battle laughter in the castle seemed so strange, just off a bit, instead of the light and pleasant humor that had once filled the halls it had a biting, harsh tone, a cynical note that hurt worse than tears. It was enough, he mused, to discompose a centaur, to have it aimed in his direction.

He approached Madam Pomfrey, and said quietly, "Madam Pomfrey, do you have a moment. I'd like to speak to you if you're free."

The Matron looked at him, for a long moment, and then smiled kindly, "Of course dear boy." She said kindly, "Minerva and I were just adjusting our plans for tomorrow, I'll meet you in the hall in five minutes, and you can escort me to the hospital wing."

He nodded and walked down the long hall, there was a part of him, a small and admittedly juvenile part that felt offended at the adjective "boy". But he brushed it aside, somewhat sneeringly, acknowledging to himself that to someone of Pomfrey's age all the students were barely more than infants. A sentiment that left him feeling rather ashamed of himself, which was an even stranger sensation considering that only a few months ago he'd have felt rather smug over the cleverness of it. His thoughts were interrupted by a late owl, which landed on his shoulder rather heavily and holding out a small note. "Hello Artemis." He said, immediately recognizing it as the one belonging to Daphne Greengrass. "What are you doing here?"

He opened the note and read: _Draco, Astoria is missing. We thought she'd gone home with a friend in all the confusion, but no one seems to have seen her and we don't know whom we can trust. We think she might be hiding at the school somewhere and we heard you were still there. Would you mind having a look? Many thanks, Daphne. _

It wasn't so much what the note said, as what it didn't say, that made Draco feel suddenly both ill and a little desperate. He looked around, and realized that he was standing right next to the Gryffindor table.

"Something wrong, Malfoy?" Potter's voice came from what seemed a very long way away.

"One of the girls from my house is missing. Fifth year. Need to go look for her, probably in the Dungeons. Didn't think to search the girl's dorms. Bloody fool, what was a I thinking?" The words came out in a mangled rush.

"Well, you can't search them, they don't allow boys in, and we all should have thought of that, though, we searched the other dormitories." Said Hermione practically. "Look, Ginny and I will come with you and we'll do the search."

"You two aren't going down into Slytherin alone with Malfoy." Said Ron, standing up. "I'm coming too."

"No you bloody well aren't, Ron." Hermione said ferociously. "Ginny and I are perfectly able to take care of ourselves. And, besides, if she has been down there alone all this time, then she doesn't need a whole party of people that she barely knows by sight to come barging in there. If you do come down, you're staying in the hallway."

"We should let Slughorn know, anyway, Ron." Said Harry in a much more calm and reasonable tone. "He should know that one of his house is missing. And McGonagal asked us to help repair the North Tower." 

Hermione and Ginny looked at him with eyebrows raised for a moment, and Draco suddenly found himself wondering if all the girls in Gryffindor were as scary as these two.

"Don't worry Weasely." he said, and he really could not keep the sneer from his voice this time, "I'm not an idiot and I don't intend to do anything as stupid as cause trouble for two of the scariest witches in the wizarding world in a castle full of people who have already proven they are not afraid to defend them, if the need arises. At the very least, have some respect for my sense of self-preservation. I really do have to go, right now if they can't come then I'll bloody well find a way to do it myself." And he turned on his heel and strode out of the hall.

Even when he heard footsteps running behind him, he didn't turn around until he hear Luna's voice, and glanced over to see her next to him, practically running in her effort to keep up with his long strides. He slowed slightly and nodded to her. "Lovegood."

"Tell me about Astoria, Draco. Her name is rather pretty, isn't it?" Luna said, gently.

"What do you want to know?" He asked suspiciously.

"Well, just general information is probably fine." The practicality in Luna's voice was both startling and amusing.

"I'm not well acquainted with her myself, I only know her as Daphne's quiet little sister. She's two years below Daphne and I. We used to tease Daphne that her sister should have been in Ravenclaw, always has her nose in a book. Otherwise…" He just shrugged. "Don't know really. Her father was never a Death Eater, as far as I knew, but they do believe rather strongly in blood purity. I believe that her father kept them out of danger by donating large sums of money to both sides, same as Blaise's mother. They're a wealthy family, but it did put a rather large dent in their spending money. I think this past year has been rather hard on her, Daphne used to get annoyed, said she was far too tender-hearted for her own good, and really could not understand why she was in our house at all."

They had reached the wall that hid the entrance to the Slytherin common room; he tapped the wall with his wand and whispered the password. Then gestured to the three girls. "After you." He said politely, ushering them inside.

"Thank you Draco." Said Luna sweetly. And the other two nodded in agreement with her, but stared at him strangely as they walked past him.

"Draco, which way to the girl's dorms?" Hermione asked, and he noticed that she was looking at the floor as she talked to him, it seemed strange until he saw the skulls that dotted the common room, and wondered if that was why.

He gestured silently towards the doorway to the right of the fireplace and the three girls turned towards the door, their wands drawn and ready. As they walked through it, Luna turned to him, "Draco, if she saw any of the battle it might be best to hide the skulls. Some of them are letting off a very negative energy, and we wouldn't want her to be frightened by them." She gave him a small smile as she closed the door behind her.

Draco stared around him, wondering for the first time why there were so many damn skulls lying around the room anyway. What had seemed rather cool and interesting with he was 11, now seemed dark and sinister and rather unnecessary. He conjured a box and summoned them into it carefully. There was something rather cathartic about the whole thing. The skulls had been the least pleasant things about returning to the room.

As he finished, there was a little sound from the direction of the girl's dorms, and he looked up to see Luna and Ginny with their arms around Astoria, whose dark eyes were wide but seemed to be listening intently to something that Luna was saying to her.

"Astoria, how are you?" Draco asked, as kindly as he could manage, striding forward. She looked at him, and, to his consternation burst into tears and flung herself into his arms.

"She's fine, Draco." Said Hermione, with a bemused look on her face, "She had a bit of a scare at the end of the battle, and she hasn't had nearly enough to eat or drink for the past few days, but she's perfectly all right. Nothing Madam Pomfrey can't sort out."

"What happened?" He asked, half scared to hear the answer.

"She followed Daphne back to Hogwarts when she joined some of the other 7th year Slytherins who returned with Professor Slughorn, but she got separated and saw some things that shook her up a bit, and then ended up here when she was running away from one of the Acromantula."

"Wait, what?" Draco asked, his mind spinning a little.

"Look, I think the important thing, right now, is to get her out of here and up to the hospital wing so Pomfrey can have a look at her and we can send an owl to her family." Said Ginny, a bit harshly Draco thought.

"Don't know why I'm so pa-pathetic." Astoria said to the older girls, and she hiccupped, bitterly, wiping her eyes daintily with a small handkerchief. "You're all just a year or two older than me and y-you were so brave."

"Don't be silly." Said Luna, gently, "You haven't grown up with all this, and we've been immersed in it since we were your age, or younger. It's different when you first start to see it. You haven't had a chance to get used to it yet, and, if things stay peaceful, maybe you won't have to."

Draco looked down at the slender girl, and something in his heart wrenched a little. "Come along, Astoria," he said kindly, tucking her hand around his arm, "Why don't we get you up to Pomfrey so she can sort you out?"

She glanced at him, an embarrassed look on her face, "What have you been doing the past few days?" He asked quietly, as he led her back through the doorway.

"Just waiting." She said, "I thought someone would come and check the dorms, or Daphne would come looking for me, or something. Most of the girls left their trunks here, so I just took any food they had in them, and ate that. It was mostly chocolate actually."

"Why didn't you come out on your own?"

"I was scared. I didn't know who had won and I didn't know if it was safe."

"I'm sorry. I should have thought of checking the girls rooms, I checked the guys, but I just assumed that all the girls were out. I didn't even know that other people from our house had come back to join Potter's side. I wasn't really paying attention to much at the end of the battle."

"Slughorn came and got them, he said that if anyone wanted a chance to redeem our house's reputation, then now was the time. So Daphne and Blaise and Millicent and a couple of others joined him. Nott wanted to, but he said he couldn't face the idea of coming across his own father in battle, so he stayed behind." Her voice was so quiet that he had to lean towards her to hear what she said.

"Why did they decide to fight for Potter, rather than for the Dark Lord?" He asked.

"You weren't there that last month, Draco. You didn't see what the rest of us saw. At the end, it was only Crabbe and Goyle, and a few more like them who still supported You-Know-Who. The Carrows were bad before Easter, but afterwards." She shuddered. "You never saw what they did to the Cresswell boys, especially the younger one. It was horrible. He was from Ravenclaw, and one of the older boys in his house rescued him, but then he got caught and they half-killed him. It was really awful." She was shaking, and Draco patted her hand awkwardly.

"The Dark Lord's dead, the Carrows are on the run, but they'll be in Azkaban soon. After that, they'll never hurt anyone ever again." He said firmly.

She sagged slightly, he thought in relief, "Watching all those things, not knowing what to do…I wanted to die. I'm not brave, but I just couldn't let Daphne go in there alone, not without anyone to watch her back. She teases, but she's always looked after me. For all she's so mean to other people."

"She's not that mean, at least, she's a bit haughty and proud, but she's practically an innocent lamb compared to Pansy." Draco said, smiling.

"I can't stand that girl." Astoria said, and Draco was slightly startled by the ferocity of her words.

"She's a bit hard to take. I'll admit." He said.

"You're not still dating her, are you?" Asked Astoria, suddenly looking upset. "I shouldn't have..."

"Merlin, no." He interrupted, "I broke up with her last year, she's just taking a while to get that we are not actually going to be married. Um…don't tell her I said that." And he smiled wryly, amazed at his own candidness.

Astoria giggled slightly, and then shivered. "It's so cold, why is it so cold?" She asked.

"Here" He said, sweeping his cloak off with one hand and putting it around her "this should warm you up."

Luna walked up next to them, and put her hand on Astoria's forehead. "Oh, dear," She said, "You're burning up." And she took Astoria's other arm with a motherly gentleness that caused Draco's throat to constrict slightly, though he did not know why.

"Not to worry." He said, more confidently than he felt, gesturing to the door of the hospital wing. "We're here and Madam Pomfrey will have you sorted out in no time."

The hospital matron bustled up to them immediately as they entered the room, and tenderly bullied, prodded and coerced Astoria into a soft nightgown and a bed and was feeding her soup and potions before any of them had really had a chance to get their bearings. Draco watched the proceedings for a few minutes, rather in awe of the woman. He had never really been to the hospital ward when he was not being tended and he was amazed at her proficiency and kindness.

"Draco." Said Hermione, startling him out of his reverie, "Hadn't you better go and send an owl to Daphne, I'm sure that her family would like to know that Astoria has been found." She raised an eyebrow, and he had to bite back the anger that the little gesture caused him.

"You're absolutely right as usual Granger." He said, allowing just the tiniest bit of sneer into his voice. "Thank you for reminding me." He turned away and headed towards the owlery, hoping that she would understand the message the sneer was intended to communicate. No matter how much he had changed, he was not one of her bumbling friends to be bossed about and managed. For all her intelligence and bravery the girl was a nuisance and he would not have his life ordered by her the way she seemed to manage everyone in her house.

**Part 3**

Artemis had already left to return to Daphne, so he sent his eagle owl, Procyon, with a quick note, saying _Astoria found in dorms, being seen to by Madam Pomfrey. Nothing serious. Feel free to come and collect her at your earliest convenience. I'll see that she's taken care of till then. All the best – Draco._

He was descending the tower at a rather reckless pace, when he nearly ran headlong into Dean and Seamus, who were coming up the stairs together, chatting quietly.

"Pardon he said." He said, when he found them blocking his way, "I'm in a bit of a rush, would you mind?" The words came out in a more imperious tone than he intended, and he immediately regretted it when he saw Seamus hands ball up into fists. But Dean, simply leaned coolly to one side, his long frame still blocking Draco's way.

"We'll let you pass." He said, calmly, "But we have a few questions to ask you first."

"Really? And what would they be?" Draco could feel the anger that had lain dormant for the past four days stirring under the surface.

Darker youth continued, smiling blackly, "First, why didn't you say it was us at your manor when the snatchers brought us in? You had to know it was Harry, even with that stinging jinx distorting his face he was very recognizable. And, second, why did you join our side at the end? Was it real, or did you just want to keep yourself safe?"

Draco sank down and sat on the steps, tiredly, the anger draining out of him and then the words started to come with a ferocity that startled him, "It was a bloody messy nightmare having the Dark Lord living with us for two years. Horrible, really, and I was tired of all the death and torture, living in fear of my life." He was shocked to hear the words coming so candidly from his mouth, but he couldn't seem to stop them. "So many murders happened in our house while he was there. So much torture…it was…I couldn't do it any more. I still believed that my family's ideals were right, but I didn't want to be under his thumb any more. I was tired of...of everything."

Dean sat down on the lower step, a strangely sympathetic look on his face. "And my other questions?"

"I didn't just join at the last minute. Well, maybe a bit, but not fully. I didn't know what I wanted to believe any more. Voldemort tortured us, after you all escaped. Me, my father, my mother, I just wanted it to end and I wanted to be free of him. Then Potter and the other two rescued me, saved my life twice during the battle, and I just couldn't fight for that side any more." He looked down at the ground and felt the coldness of the stone creep into his bones.

Seamus let out a low whistle, "Did he make you watch?" He asked, and there was a tone in his voice that Draco did not quite understand. "I mean, when he tortured yer mam?"

"Yeah." Draco nodded.

"Well, that's good enough for me." Said Seamus. "I'd bloody kill the bastard who tortured my mother."

"Why do you think more than half my year came and fought for your side?" Draco said, "Blaise's mother was threatened when he couldn't produce an effective cruciatus curse on a first year. Theo's dad was tortured when a mission went wrong and too many people lived…not all of our parents could see that Voldemort was dangerous, but we knew. It would be better to give up every ideal that we ever had, than follow him any longer. Putting the Carrows in charge of a school was enough to show us that."

"But why didn't you try to help Hermione when she was being tortured? Was it because you were afraid your family would suffer? Not that we expected you to, really. Or that it would make it fine if that was your reason." Dean's voice was quiet.

"No." Draco said, "I wish I could say yes, I really do. But in all honesty, until it was actually happing, I was still halfway accepting the idea that the world would be a better place without any muggle-born witches and wizards. And while it was happening I was too damned scared and sick to my stomach to move or think."

"And how do ya feel about it now?" Seamus asked, and there was a dangerous note in his voice.

"In my nightmares, every scream from the battle is her scream or the screams of the other students that the Carrows asked me to torture or the screams of people who were killed at the manor, and I can't get away from the guilt. Every dead body stares at me when I sleep, asking me why I didn't help sooner. And I know that most of what I was taught about blood status was a damned great lie, and it's tearing me up inside. " And then he clamped his mouth shut tightly.

"Well, that's good enough for me." Seamus said, "Mind, I still think you're a bloody dangerous git, but I might warm to ya…in time that is, if ya continue to mind yer manners."

Draco nodded curtly. And stood as the other two moved aside for him to pass. As he neared the bottom of the stairs, Dean's voice echoed down to him, "Oi, Draco, we're having a little gathering tonight in Gryffindor tower if you'd like to come. Seamus and I will see to it that no one beats you up too badly. You did save Lavender's life, after all."

"Thanks." Said Draco, "I'll…think about it."


	6. Chapter 6: The Meeting

As We Survive: Part 1 – The Evolution of Draco Malfoy:

Chapter 6 –

_**(Disclaimer: I am not J.K. Rowling, I own nothing but a few bits and pieces here and there. I'm trying to stay as close to the books as I can, while writing my own stories, because Rowling is a genius and it's more challenging to stick with her storyline. I'm sorry it's been a bit longer between updates lately. I became fanatically inspired by another story idea focusing on Neville, which takes place the summer before Deathly Hallows. I'll be posting it up here soon, so keep an eye out for it. Don't worry I won't be abandoning this one, I definitely want to see it through to the end, especially as it keeps surprising me. **_

_**Thank you to everyone who has been following my story. And to those who have made it a favorite, I really appreciate you and I hope you continue to find the story satisfactory. Also, a special "thank you" to those who have given me reviews I greatly appreciate the feedback. Lots of love and keep letting me know what you think. I welcome any and all comments and criticisms. Best of wishes to you all.)**_

It was a quiet gathering that filled the Gryffindor Common room, when Draco spoke the password for the evening "Remember" and ducked through the portrait hole. Neville and Harry stood talking quietly next to the fireplace, Michael Corner and Terry Boot sat in armchairs next to the fire, and he noticed with an all too familiar churning in his stomach that one of Corner's pant legs was empty from the knee down. And as he looked around the room he saw injuries that he had not known about before. Under the hat on Terry's head, there was a large bandage that covered nearly half his face. Katie Bell lay on a pile of cushions, a patch over one eye, and Angelina Johnson wore a sling on one arm, as she lay curled on the cushions next to her friend.

Padma and Parvati Patil were sitting with Dennis Creevey sandwiched between them, and Draco did not have to look the younger boy in the face to feel his resentful glare. Hermione sat on a sofa in a corner, her head resting on Ron's shoulder, her eyes were closed and wet and the ginger's face was set and hard, making him look years older than he should. He stood frozen, looking at the scene around him, the injuries that dotted the room causing a queer twisting in his chest, and he felt himself half-poised between walking further into the room and walking back out the portrait hole, unsure of whether or not his presence was really welcome.

He had half-decided that he was going to leave, when the unexpected figures of Daphne Greengrass and Blaise Zabini appeared before him. Half-dazed he found himself shaking their hands and asking after their families.

"Thank you, for taking care of Astoria, Draco." Daphne said. "She said you were really kind." And he did not quite miss the note of surprise in her voice, which left him feeling both ashamed and slightly resentful. Had he really been so dreadful that being kind to a young girl from his own house would come as such a surprise?

Zabini gave him a strangely appraising look, and said, "There's firewhiskey and butterbeer on the table over by the stairs. Watch out for the refreshments, though, apparently some of them are from Weasley's shop, so I wouldn't trust them."

"I didn't know you were here, Zabini." Draco said awkwardly, as he followed his fellow Slytherin over to the back of the room.

"I just came up for the meeting. Daphne and I have been taking turns sitting with Tracy Davis at the hospital, her family won't see her since she fought against Voldemort." Zabini's voice burned with resentment.

"Oh, that's…I didn't even know that they supported him." Draco said.

"Only financially, but they believe in house loyalty." The derision in Blaise's voice was so strong its presence was nearly solid.

Draco's response was interrupted by the tough Irish lilt of Seamus Finnigan's voice, "So ya decided to come then?" The shorter wizard sounded surprised.

"I…yeah." Draco said.

"Well, isn't this an interesting turn of events, Dean was more than half-joking when he said for ya to come. Glad to see ya did, though." Seamus said, and turned to Blaise, "Zabini, glad to see ya could make it. I saw ya fighting at the end, and I have to say, I'm glad that ya decided to join us."

"Finnigan," Zabini said, a strangely fierce light in his eye, "I saw some of the curses you threw, they were…surprising."

"Aw, well, that's the Irish for you. We've got our own ways."

"So have we."

"Yeah, I saw that. Well, cheers then." And Seamus nodded and walked away.

Zabini nodded, and there was a hard, ferocious gleam in his eyes as he met the fierce Irish ones, and Draco wondered what they had seen in the battle that he had missed. There was a hardened look on most of the faces in the room that was inexplicably painful, and the urge to leave returned again but he ignored it and got himself a large glass of firewhiskey. There was a hard chair in dark corner where he could observe the room in quiet, and he settled into it as comfortably as he could.

Ginny Weasley was sitting between her two oldest brothers, her head resting on Bill's shoulder and Charlie's arm draped protectively around her shoulders. Ernie Macmillan and his friends Hannah Abbot and Justin Finch-Fletchley sat on the carpet in front of the fire, talking in serious undertones with Anthony Goldstein. He found himself spending a great deal of time observing Daphne and Blaise, who were exhibiting a special regard for each other that surprised him. As the fire whiskey burned through him, he found his mood blackening, until Neville Longbottom stepped forward.

"Welcome everyone, thank you all for coming." He said, raising his glass to the room, "We called this meeting to remember our fallen and make sure we have a full list of the injured. We also want to check in on the status of everyone affected by the war, to ensure that all the students who engaged in the battle are properly taken care of. First off, those at St. Mungos: Lavender Brown is the first on my list, and as she is one of the more severely injured we'll start with her. Who can update us on her status?"

Seamus, Dean and Parvatti both raised their hands, and Neville looked between them for a moment. "All right, which of you were the last to visit her?"

"That would be Dean and myself." Seamus said, "We stepped over to St. Mungos for a bit this afternoon. She had quite a few broken bones from her fall, which are healing nicely, but the…wounds…" Here he swallowed and shut his eyes for a moment, "The wounds that the werewolf gave her, are not healing well. The healers are goin' to try some experimental methods in an attempt to limit the scarring, but it's not lookin' good. They've kept her in a magical sleep to protect her from the pain while they try and find something, but they'll have to wake her up by the end of next week if they don't find anything."

Draco closed his eyes, his stomach churning, and wondered if had really been the right thing to save the girl. Then he felt in the vials in his pocket, and closed his eyes. His chest clenched and he bit his tongue, hard, against the guilt. But he leaned forward to listen better to what was being said.

"Thank you Seamus." Neville said, and turned to the twins sitting with Dennis, "Parvati, do you have anything to add or any news on Lavender's family?"

"Seamus covered everything healthwise. Her family's doing fairly well, considering. Her mum and dad have been spending a lot of time sitting with her, and her cousin Kelly as well. It's been really hard on them, though." Parvati said through silent tears.

"How are you holding up, Parvati?" Neville asked gently.

She started shaking a bit, and Padma reached around Dennis to hold her hand, "I'm fine, just…" she trailed off shaking her head.

"Come see me or Hannah afterwards," Neville said kindly, then continued with the names, "Daphne and Blaise, any news on Tracy?"

"The acromantuala did a lot of damage, but the wounds were not fatal, thanks to Corner and Boot. She's recovering and the healer said that the wounds are pretty standard from a confrontation with the monsters. She should be out of St. Mungo's by the end of the month." Blaise said.

"Does she have a place to live when she gets out?" Dean asked.

"Daphne and I have made arrangements for her." Blaise said.

"Excellent." Neville said. "Let us know if she needs anything else, and keep us up to date on her health." Blaise nodded the affirmative.

"Michael, it's good to have you here, we didn't expect you. How are you healing?" Neville turned to the darker haired wizard.

"Not bad, really." Michael said, "Definitely could be much worse. They'll be fitting me for a magical appendage next week and I'll be racing you down the corridors by the end of the month."

"I look forward to receiving good thrashing then." Neville said, grinning, then looked down at his list again, "Ernie, how is Susan."

"She's doing most excellently. They're supposed to be releasing her tomorrow or the next day." Ernie replied, "She's going to be coming back to help with the castle after she's seen her family for a few days."

"Wonderful, that's brilliant, tell her to take it easy, though." Neville said, and there was a general applause around the room.

"Lee, how has your back been healing?" Neville asked.

By way of an answer, Lee stood up, bowed and pulled an astonished Alicia Spinnet into his arms dancing her around the room in an overly enthusiastic manner. "Good answer." Neville said with a chuckle, then turned towards the Hufflepuffs, "Any news on Wayne Hopkins and Megan Jones?"

"Both back with their families." Hannah answered then added a little brokenly, "Or what's left of their families."

"What is the status on the families?" Neville asked gently.

"Wayne's father survived, but he's in critical condition at St. Mungos. His mother is at home, but very ill. Carl's been helping look after them since the battle ended." Justin Flinch-Fletchly answered.

"Megan lost her older brother at the start of the year," Hannah added, "and Gwenog's taking the summer off of quidditch to help look after Megan and the little ones. Her mum went on the run to protect the family and they haven't heard from her yet, they think that the Snatchers may have…that is..." Hannah stopped talking abruptly.

"Does anyone know where she went to?" Charlie Weasley asked in a surprisingly soothing voice.

"She has family in Scotland, so she might have gone there." Hannah replied, as Charlie nodded and wrote something down on a sheet of parchment on a table in front of him. "I'll check into it, if you could give me a list of all possible locations, I'll try to have news for you by the end of the week." Hannah nodded, smiling at him gratefully.

Michael Corner, who had been talking quietly with a very pale looking Terry and Anthony spoke up, "Roger Malone didn't make it, he died during the battle but they didn't find his…remains until a few hours ago." There were several startled sobs around the room at this news.

Neville bowed his head, looking suddenly many years older than he was and wrote something down on a piece of parchment before replying. "Thank you, Michael, would you mind letting his family know that there are still plots available with those who fought in the battle? We can make arrangements if they wish to bury him with the others. Come and have a debriefing about it afterwards." Michael nodded, breathing deeply, as Neville asked, "Who found the body?"

Terry, Hermione and Ron raised their hands, receiving a nod from Neville who said,"You all come as well."

"Lily Moon died last night." Blaise said his voice was uncharacteristically gruff, "Sally-Anne is also in critical condition, they don't know if she'll make it through the night. The curse has progressed to some vital organs and they still haven't figured out what she was hit with. Daphne and I are heading back to St. Mungo's after the meeting is over."

"Did anyone witness Lily going down?" Bill asked the room in general.

"Blaise and I saw it, but she was too far away for us to hear the curse. By the time we got there everyone around her was…was gone." Daphne said shakily.

"Come and see me afterwards if you have time," Said Neville, and Draco saw that he was shaking slightly, "Please let Lily's family know that she can also be buried here on the grounds. And keep us notified about Sally-Anne's condition." He rubbed his head tiredly then asked, "Any news on Oliver?"

"He died two nights ago." Ernie said somberly, "Undetectable slow-working poison is the official diagnosis. They thought that he was recovering when he…his heart stopped. They think that it was introduce through the knife wound."

"Thank you Ernie, please give the family our condolences, and let them know that he can be buried here at the school. That leaves Runcorn from our year." Neville said, to Draco's surprise he saw noticed that the Gryffindor was shivering again.

"Also died, earlier today." Daphne answered this time, her voice bitter. "His uncle found out that he'd fought on our side and he killed him right there in the hospital. They've taken the uncle to Azkaban, no trial necessary as one of the Healers saw it, happen."

Neville nodded, writing again on the parchment, but seemed to have trouble steadying his hands. Hannah handed him a large cup of what appeared to be chocolate, and whispered in his ear for a moment, Neville nodded and replied in an inaudible undertone, then turned towards Ginny and Luna taking a sip from the mug. "Ginny and Luna, are all the sixth years accounted for? Most of them did not fight, so I think we're covered there." And Neville's eyes drifted to where Dennis Creevey was sitting and staring at his hands.

"All accounted for, Neville." Ginny replied. "Colin was the only one from our year who…that is…" She stammered to a halt, looking at Dennis. "All accounted for: there are eight in St. Mungos, and four more with minor injuries who are recovering at home. But it looks like everyone will pull through. Most of them came at the end of the second wave of the battle, so they avoided the worst of it." She finished.

"Thanks Ginny, please get me their names and any information about their families, Harry and Seamus and I will follow up with them. Final member, Cho Chang, does anyone have any information on her whereabouts and health."

Luna spoke up, "She's doing well, but still a bit traumatized from everything. She said she'd try and make it to the next meeting, but she might not be able to."

"Thank you, Luna, please tell her to stay in touch. I have a few things that need to be delivered to her, would you be able to cover that?" Luna nodded, smiling, and Neville asked, "Is that all students and members of the DA now covered?"

Anthony Goldstein spoke up, "I know that he deserted at the end, in the worst way possible, but I tracked down Zacharias Smith. He was injured escaping, but he made it out. He's back home with his family."

"Thank you, Anthony, I'm sure I can speak for us all in saying we're glad that he is all right." Neville's voice was slightly chilly, and he looked down scanning the parchment in front of him, "Now for final business on my end: After the meeting anyone with untreated injuries, and I know quite a few of you have been hiding minor damages, please come and see Hannah and I. It is not heroic to keep your injuries to yourselves, people." Here he gave Harry a very pointed look. "Also, anyone still suffering negative side effects from detentions with the Carrows, please come see us as well. The Minister would also like me to extend an invitation to everyone who has worked with the DA over the past year, to join the Aurors. Tests to confirm everyone's capabilities, but I have it from a good source that they will not be anything that anyone who was in the DA will not be able to handle with a little bit of study. Harry, I think it's your turn now?"

Harry stood up in the front of the group, his posture was more confident than Neville's had been, but Draco was surprised to see that most of the other members of the room were not responding to him with as much familiar respect as they had with Neville.

"Right." Harry said, "Anyone still waiting for updates on family members, particularly those with muggle-born parents who had to go on the run, please see either Charlie or myself after the meeting. Does anyone have any questions about anyone they've been trying to contact?"

Dean spoke up, "Anyone have any news on the Cresswell boys? Their dad saved my life and I'd like to know how they are."

"Oh, they're fine." Luna spoke up quietly. "I'm sorry, I hadn't had a chance to tell you, I got an owl from them just before I came, they're cousins of mine. John, the youngest, is still recovering a bit from what the Carrows did, but he's nearly mended. The oldest one, Duncan, came and fought in the battle, didn't you know?"

Dean shook his head, "So, he survived then?"

Luna nodded, "They'd like to meet you, they don't know much about what happened to their dad. The snatchers just left his body on their doorstep with a rather horrid note. I can take you to their house if you'd like."

Dean nodded, looking slightly ill, but he replied with enthusiasm, "That would be really good. I'd be happy to talk to them about him."

"How's your family doing, Dean?" Ernie asked.

Dean grinned, "They're doing really well, me going on the run worked. I left before they moved house, so the ministry didn't have information on where they were living. I don't think they tried too hard, to be honest. I'm not really that important.

"I think we can all agree that we're glad they were so misinformed as to your value." Harry said to his friend.

"Dennis, how is your family holding up?" Anthony Goldstein asked kindly. But a long, awkward silence followed as Dennis closed his eyes, his lips moving soundlessly.

Finally, Neville answered quietly, "Dennis's dad was killed last summer when the boys fled to avoid being taken in for questioning. His aunt and uncle came to Colin's funeral, but Dennis will be living with me and gran. If anyone has any more questions or concerns about Dennis or his family they can talk to me later."

"I'm sorry, I didn't know." Anthony said, flushing with embarrassment.

"It's ok." Dennis said, as he finally found his voice, but his eyes were closed as he spoke and there was a tremor in his voice. "Most people don't." An awkward silence pervaded the room.

"Any further questions or concerns?" Harry asked, breaking through the uncomfortable atmosphere. "Or does anyone know of someone who is still missing or in need of anything?"

Justin Flinch-Fletchley spoke up, "What is being done to help the muggles who suffered because of our war? There are quite a few families who lost loved ones and even more who were injured by death eaters."

"Thank you for asking, Justin." Hermione answered, her voice tired, "We're still working out the logistics for helping them. We have a meeting about that tomorrow morning at half eight in the staff room, if you'd like to take part in it."

"Excellent, I'll be there." Justin answered.

"Brilliant." Harry said, "I'll wrap up in a minute, but first Bill has a few announcements."

Bill Weasley stood up, and took Harry's place by the fireplace. "Anyone who has had any trouble with Gringotts during the past year please come and speak with me in the hallway after the meeting, I'll be there for an hour after we finish. Otherwise, please feel free to come and find me here at Hogwarts, I'll be available every morning between breakfast and noon Monday through Friday, until the end of the month. If anyone's family was forced to close their vault at Gringotts, or had it frozen, then please notify me right away and we will get it reinstated."

He paused for a moment and took a deep breath, "And anyone who was bitten or knows anyone who was bitten by any of the werewolves during the battle is also welcome to come talk to me about it. If any of you are hiding bites, please let us know immediately. There are treatments that help a great deal with the pain, and we would like to assist you. If you are worried about the next full moon, please don't be, the battle took place after the full moon so there shouldn't be anyone that changes fully." He nodded to Harry and then sat back down, wrapping his large hand around his wife's small one.

Harry stood and spoke again, "Any further business that needs to be taken care of?" He was met with general silence and shaking of heads. "Right then, the minister would like me to let everyone know that monument to those who fought is being raised here on the grounds and on the fountain at the ministry of magic. And now, I'd like to call for a moment of silence for those who died during Voldemort's reign." Silence reigned for what felt like a lifetime to Draco, and he could see tears on the faces in the room and his heart wrenched again, painfully. He put his face in his hands and fought down the tears that were choking him.

"Thank you everyone for coming." Harry said, his voice rough and painful, a startling intrusion in the pervading silence. "Please enjoy the refreshments and allow us to see to any needs that you may have."

As soon as the meeting ended, Draco leapt to his feet and looked around for Daphne and Blaise, he saw them just making their way through the room towards the portrait hole and bolted after them. He caught up with them at the top of the staircase. "Zabini, Blaise, wait." He said, hurrying towards them, removing a small blue vial from his cloak and thrusting it into the handsome wizard's hand.

"What is this?" Blaise asked suspiciously, "We're rather in a hurry at the moment."

"It's something very rare, but it can heal curses that other substances are unable to." Draco said, "It should save Sally-Anne. It's…something special and very difficult to obtain."

"How long have you had it?" Blaise asked fiercely, gripping Draco's arm with one hand.

"Since early Monday morning." Draco said, and felt the shame and guilt filling him.

"Since Monday." And Blaise's voice was a monotone blanket covering a seething mass of rage. "Since Monday, and you never thought to say anything?"

"I know, I'm sorry. I didn't realize that anyone was…that there were people still dying, no one told me." Draco said, clenching his jaw hard against another agonizing wave.

"I'll take it and visit those who are left at St. Mungo's." Blaise said, stashing the vial in his cloak, "But seriously Draco, I knew you were a selfish prat, but this…"

"I know." Draco said harshly, "You can't hate me more than I already hate myself."

"Blaise, don't be so hard on him…" Daphne said gently.

"People are dead, Daphne." Blaise said, his voice hard and cold. "And he could have saved some of them."

"I know. But he can't go back in time. So let's just leave it, please?" She said, then turned to Draco. "Is that all you have?"

Silently he handed them another vial. "I have more, you only need a little, a few drops. It's powerful."

"Thanks." Blaise said, in a harsh voice that sounded anything but thankful, "Come on Daphne."

Daphne nodded, then said to Draco, "Hermione still has a wound from your aunt, you should…see to her if she'll let you."

Draco closed his eyes and breathed, nodding. When he opened his eyes, the two Slytherins were gone, and he turned back towards the Gryffindor Common Room. Bill Weasley was standing by the door, his long arms crossed and his ponytail slung carelessly over his shoulder.

"What was that about?" He asked, his eyes blazing and wolfish.

"I…acquired a substance not long after the battle. It has powerful healing properties, but I didn't tell anyone about it and now people are dead. I should have known that all that was too good to be true." Draco said, numbly. "It's not dangerous, or contagious." He added quickly.

"Could it heal this?" Bill asked, running his finger along the ragged scar on his cheek.

Draco shook his head, "Once a wound has scarred over it's ineffective. I'm sorry."

Bill smiled, "I don't need to get rid of it anyway, Fleur thinks it makes me look noble and brave. But there are people whose battle injuries are still not healed and you should go help them. One thing I've learned as a curse breaker is that you cannot undo the damage of the past; you can only do what you are able to keep the curses of the past from tainting the future."

Draco nodded, "I think can do that." He said, resolutely.

"Then do it." Bill said, then grabbed Draco's arm as he started to pass him, "Kingsley told me about your plan. I think it's a good one, but it will be very costly for you. Your father is going to make some very big demands in order to allow you to carry it out."

"I know." Draco said, "It's a cost I'm willing to make."

Bill nodded. "I hope you don't regret it."

"I won't. I never expected to have a choice in the matter anyway, but I hope I am skilled enough to manipulate things so that they will be tolerable." Said Draco firmly, his grey eyes blazing as he nodded curtly to Bill, who released his arm, as he stepped back through the portrait hole.

After giving Neville and Hannah two of the vials from his cloak and a very guarded explanation of what they were for and how to use them, Draco returned to the Common room. There was a part of him that wanted to leave, but he felt drawn to stay there. It was as though the people in the room had become a magnet holding him in place. So instead, he grabbed a bottle of fire whiskey from the table and settled into an armchair and drank himself into a stupor. There seemed have been a few drunken conversations, but for a long time afterwards he was not sure if they were real or only in his mind. In the background he thought he heard an Irish voice singing a mournful ballad about someone who died in a war. And as he settled into a troubled semi-sleep, he was vaguely aware that the lights in the room had dimmed, until only the fire was left burning brightly. Through a dark fog he heard Neville and Hannah come down the stairs and settle onto a couch near the fire before he fell into a troubled sleep.

He was startled awake early in the morning, his head throbbing and his body stiff and painful, by a raspy young voice calling loudly, "Neville? Neville?" in increasing panic.

He opened his eyes, and saw Hermione stand up from an armchair, and kneel beside a figure that was wrapped in blankets in front of the fire.

"Hey Dennis, Neville and Hannah had to go help Madam Pomfrey with an emergency. They'll be back in a little while." Hermione said, quietly.

"What happened?" Dennis asked.

"Percy Weasley tried, that is…he got sick last night, and they're trying to heal him." And a sudden, sickening sensation filled Draco's insides, as he strained his ears to listen to the conversation.

There was a long silence then Dennis said, "Did he…Hermione, he didn't…"

"He's going to be fine, Dennis." Hermione said soothingly, "Ron found him and…he'll be fine." And there was a quiet fierceness to her voice when she said "fine" that was jarring.

"Hermione?"

"Yes Dennis."

"Will the world ever be better?" And Dennis's voice was painful in its hollowness.

"I think so, Dennis. I think it will…someday." And the woman's voice was deeply broken underneath its smooth surface.

"Where're the rest of them? The Weasleys?" Dennis asked.

"Ginny's in my dorm room with Luna and Fleur, and Charlie and Bill took George home to Bill's house, he was…having a hard time. The rest of them are with Percy." Hermione said.

"Shouldn't you be with Ginny?" Dennis asked.

"She's fine, and she wanted to make sure that someone stayed down here with you. So I am taking care of her, by being here with you."

"Oh. I guess that makes sense. I can take care of myself, though." Dennis said, sounding defiant.

"Well, I still want to be here, it's nice in front of the fire, and you're good company even when you're asleep. You don't snore nearly as much as Harry and Ron."

Dennis chuckled at this.

The silence was longer this time, and Draco was just beginning to drift off to sleep, when Dennis's voice jolted him awake again.

"Hermoine?"

"Yes Dennis?"

"How do we keep going?" Another silence, and Draco could hear Hermione shifting uncomfortably.

"I don't know Dennis. I used to think that surviving was an event. That if we lived past Voldemort being defeated, then we would have survived. But I think it's harder than that." She sighed heavily, "I think, it's really just about taking one day at a time. We remember the ones we've lost, and carry on because we're here and they would want us to keep living."

"That sounds more possible, actually, just carrying on as we survive one day at a time. I think I can do that. Life just seems too hard if I try and take it all at once." And there was a bit of a sob hidden in Dennis's voice, "I know Colin would want me to be happy, but I just can't be right now."

"I think that Colin would understand." Hermione said. "He didn't expect you to be happy when your dad died, did he?"

"No, he was really great. He just let me be and made me laugh when he could, and I miss him, I miss him and I want him back. I'm so afraid that I'll forget him, I don't want to forget him." And Dennis was crying now in earnest, "Colin, oh Colin."

"Oh Dennis," And Draco could tell by her voice that Hermione was crying as well, "You won't, you won't forget him, you couldn't. He loved you, and the ones who love us never really leave us."

As he listened to the woman and the boy crying, Draco discovered that the swelling pain that he had tried to drown after the meeting the night before had not, in fact, died. It grew and grew inside him, until he felt as though it would cut him in two until finally, he set it free in silent tears of his own. And the wetness from his eyes streamed down his face until he fell once more into a fitful sleep, crying for the dead and the wounded and those who had survived.

As he drifted off, he saw a piece of parchment fall hanging over a table half-way across the room from him, where someone had left a list of the fallen students from Hogwarts. He fell asleep reading the names that were visible from his seat.

Mandy Brocklehurst

Sue Li

Morag MacDougal

Lisa Turnpin

Kevin Entwhistle

Stephen Cornfoot

Alastair Runcorn

And his dreams were strange, and troubled, and full of blood and screaming and fire. In the morning he did not remember the conversation that he had heard between Hermione and Dennis, but he would remember it over and over in the weeks to come.


End file.
